


A Crime of Passion

by PrinceSircastic



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Closeted Character, Cop AU, Developing Relationship, M/M, Pietro is unimpressed, Remy is a flirt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:57:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 113,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1781545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceSircastic/pseuds/PrinceSircastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Pietro Maximoff, son of the Police Commissioner, is a good cop. He has his whole career planned out, but then the new Lieutenant transfers in from New Orleans and shakes things up. He's charming, he's gorgeous, and Pietro hates him - or does he?<br/>Goddamn southern cops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Detective Maximoff was in a comfortable place in his life. 

He had a good job with the NYPD, even if his father would prefer him to be higher in rank by now, and he had a roof over his head and his future all planned out. When it came to it, he'd earn himself the rank of Lieutenant, and then Captain, and then he'd see where the job took him from there. Easy. He was a good cop – he did everything by the book, didn't stray into darker territories or do anything to put a smudge on his reputation, and he got the job done as fast as possible, and he did it well. 

He had everything planned out, and he was comfortable. 

But then he met Remy LeBeau. 

\-- 

Pietro stepped out of the elevator onto the floor of the station that housed Homicide, idly fiddling with his tie as he strode past the line of desks manned by other detectives. A group of them were huddled around the desk parallel with his own, murmuring amongst themselves and sending the odd glance in the direction of the office directly ahead. 

Ah, yes. The new Lieutenant, of course. Lieutenant Summers had been transferred to another division a week ago – and Pietro wasn't sad to see the back of him, if he was honest – and their Captain had been filling in whilst a replacement was found. Today would be the new Lieutenant's first day on the job, and like a bunch of schoolgirls, the detectives were whispering about him in a little huddle. 

"Don't you all have work to do?" He commented casually as he slipped out of his coat and draped it over the back of his chair. They turned to acknowledge his arrival, and Detective Lee hopped down off her desk, the sound of gum snapping in her mouth as she did so. Jubilation – though she preferred to be called Jubilee – was one of the youngest detectives in Homicide, but she was damn good at her job. 

"Five seconds in and you're already jumping down our throats." She teased, giving him a swift elbow to the ribs. Jubilee was also one of the few other detectives that he actually enjoyed the company of. "Aren't you curious?" 

"Not really." Pietro shrugged, sweeping his fingers through his hair, annoyed that a few strands were already breaking free of the gel he'd used to slick them back. "He's just another cop. No big deal." 

"Yeah, but he's from _New Orleans_." Jubilee perched on the corner of his desk as he sat down, and booted up his computer. The emphasis she put on 'New Orleans' made Pietro roll his eyes. "And he's got a great name. _LeBeau_." She flashed a bright grin, and then went back to chewing her gum. "I bet he's hot." 

"You haven't seen him yet?" Pietro raised an eyebrow at that. It was considered polite to introduce yourself to your new team on arrival. 

"Well, no, duh." Jubilee rolled her eyes now. "He's not here yet." Pietro frowned, and then checked the time – which earned him another roll of Jubilee's eyes. "It's barely five minutes past start of shift." 

"It's his first day here. He should have been here early." Pietro pointed out. 

"He could be with the Captain." Jubilee shrugged. "What does it matter, anyway? We don't have any major cases on the go." 

"It matters." Pietro sighed. He was about to make another comment when the elevator pinged to signal a new arrival to the floor, and Jubilee sent him a look that clearly said 'I bet that's him now'. All eyes turned to the elevator, and even Pietro couldn't resist straightening up in his chair so he could see. 

The man who stepped out wasn't familiar, but neither did he look like a cop. His hair was shaggy and untidy, sticking up in all sorts of directions, and the long brown trench coat he wore had clearly seen better days. His shirt was rumpled and unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and he clearly hadn't shaved in a few days. Add to that the sunglasses perched on his nose, and Pietro was already unimpressed. 

Captain Howlett stepped out with him, equally as untidy but in an oddly groomed way, and cleared his throat to get the attention of any cop who wasn't already watching them. 

"Alright, boys an' girls." Logan began, putting a hand on the newcomer's shoulder – he stood a head taller than Logan, so he had to reach up to do so. "This here is Lieutenant Remy LeBeau. Play nice with him." Logan gave Remy a nod, clapped him gently on the shoulder a couple of times, and then peeled away to hide away in his own office. Typical Logan. 

Pietro sat back in his seat as a few of the detectives moved forward to introduce themselves to their new Lieutenant, and studied him. He moved with surprising grace as he shook hands and accepted the welcome of the other cops, and then he slipped through to stand before them all in front of his office. 

"T'anks fo' de warm welcome, mes amis." He grinned, charming and attractive, and Pietro suppressed a groan. _Cajun_. "Remy's sure dat we'll all be friends in no time. De door is always open fo' you all, no matter what. Alt'ough, if it's closed, den dat means Remy's busy, so best knock firs'." He gave them a lazy salute, and then turned on his heel and disappeared into his office. Jubilee, still perched on his desk, let out a low whistle. 

"Well, damn. He's a hottie." Pietro scoffed at that, bringing up his latest case file so he could finish writing his report. It had been a straightforward case – an argument that led to blows, one of them slipped, and suddenly the other guy has a dead body on his hands and suspicious circumstances. He had, at least, been intelligent enough not to try and cover anything up. Pietro reckoned he'd be going down for manslaughter after it had been ruled accidental death at his hands. Pretty basic stuff. "Oh come on, I know you're like Mr Straight but even you can admit it, right? He's _gorgeous_." 

"I'm working, Jubilee." He muttered, pointedly keeping his eyes on the screen. With another roll of her eyes, Jubilee hopped down off his desk and moved to her own, and Pietro felt himself relax a little. The truth was, he wasn't 'Mr Straight' as Jubilee had put it, and there had been part of him that had paid special attention to the new Lieutenant. Not that he'd ever act on it, though. Even if he wasn't pretty much still in the closet about his attraction to men, LeBeau was his _boss_ and he already had enough shit from Cortez about getting a fast track through the force without adding to it. 

He shifted, his gaze lifting to the open door of the Lieutenant's office, just as he heard a phone ring. That smooth, Cajun voice answered, and Pietro forced himself to focus back on his report. That accent was going to piss him off, he just knew it. Damn Southern cops. When Remy stepped back out of his office a moment later, Pietro knew what the call had been – a new case, a fresh homicide. 

"Alrigh', we got a hot one down in Upper East Side." His gaze swept over the detectives manning the various desks, and then landed on Pietro. "You. Uh…?" 

"Maximoff." Pietro offered up. "Detective." 

"Righ'. Yo' wit' Remy." He started heading for the elevator even as Pietro began to object. 

"But I've got-," 

"Now, Detective." Pietro stared after him for a moment, knowing he was being watched by his colleagues, and he sighed and pushed up from his desk impatiently, snagging his coat before he strode briskly to catch up with him. He slipped into the elevator moments before the doors started to close, and resisted the urge to scowl at his Lieutenant. "So, Maximoff, you got a first name?" 

"Pietro." He told him somewhat reluctantly. Still, if he wanted to stick to his career plan, he didn't need to be on negative terms with his superior. 

"An' how long have you been on de force, Pietro?" Pietro turned his eyes to the display, watching the numbers change as the elevator descended – distracting himself from thinking too much about the way his name had just rolled off Remy's tongue, and the way his accent made it sound almost exotic. 

"About five years." The doors pinged open, and Pietro stepped gratefully out into a space that was considerably less confining than the elevator. "Went to the Academy straight from college, and then from there into the NYPD." He felt Remy's eyes on him, and turned just in time to catch the appreciative look. He hurriedly turned his gaze away, one hand coming up to tug at his collar. Had the temperature increased, or had Remy made him feel like that with just one look? 

"So yo' what… twenty-six?" 

"That's right." He hesitated as they stepped down into the department's garage – he assumed Remy would want to drive his own vehicle over a black-and-white, and he had no idea what the Lieutenant would even drive. 

"Always wanted to be a cop, eh?" Remy fished some keys out of his coat pocket and tossed them into the air, catching them with a flick of his wrist. 

"Runs in the family." Pietro felt himself stiffen, and tried to think of a way to change the subject. The last thing he wanted to do was reveal that he was the son of the Police Commissioner to his new superior on the very first day. If he knew, he might wonder at how quickly he'd made detective, and then he might start giving out cases to other detectives and it would throw his entire career plan out of the window. 

He followed Remy to a sleek, shiny black two-seater sports car, and he groaned. This was not a cop car. This was the exact opposite of a cop car. But it was _beautiful_ , and Pietro hated that he was a little impressed. He slid into the passenger seat, trying not to let it show that he was impressed, and that he really wanted to admire the car. No. He had to be all business. 

"Right den." Remy started the engine, and Pietro had to fight to hold back the grin as it roared to life with a beautiful sound. "So, dis is what we got," he went on as he manoeuvred out of the garage and onto the street, "one victim, male, as yet unidentified, found in a hotel room by de housekeeper when she went in to change de towels, an' what have you." 

"Cause of death, other than apparent homicide?" It was much easier to converse with him when it concerned work. 

"De hotel manager called it in, said it looked like somebody had strangled him." Remy turned at some lights, taking the corner a little faster than Pietro would have liked. "But here's de t'ing – it's not de guy who's been stayin' in de room." He braked hard when another set of lights changed at the last minute, and Pietro actually threw out a hand to brace against the dash as his stomach twisted with the sudden movement. 

"That explains the lack of identification. Any sign of the guy holding the room?" He closed his eyes as Remy tore across the intersection as soon as the lights changed – he liked speed, loved to drive fast when he could, but not like this. 

"Not yet. We'll ask more on dat when we get dere." Which, given Remy's driving, wouldn't take them all that long. "Do you know Officer Drake or Officer Allerdyce?" 

"A little." Pietro nodded. "Were they first on scene?" 

"Oui, apparently." He took another corner a little too sharply for Pietro's liking, and Pietro found himself gripping the edges of his seat rather tightly as he gunned it down the street. "Dey good cops?" 

"From what I've seen, yeah." He held his breath as Remy swerved around another intersection, and he was so thankful when they finally pulled up outside the hotel in question. Remy slid out of the car and immediately held up his badge to the doorman. 

"Lieutenant LeBeau. Nobody touches de car, oui?" When the doorman nodded and moved to open the door, Pietro raised his eyebrows – usually it took more than that to convince people to allow police vehicles to sit directly outside. Then again, Remy's car really didn't look like a police vehicle. He followed Remy into the hotel lobby, and fished out his badge as Remy approached the desk. "Bonjour cherie," he flashed a charming smile at the young lady working the desk, and Pietro rolled his eyes when she actually blushed, "Lieutenant LeBeau, an' dis is my partner Detective Maximoff, NYPD." 

"Oh, of course. Mr Edwards informed me that more police would be arriving." She tapped away at her keyboard for a moment, and then rose from her chair. "I'm supposed to escort you up." 

"Lucky us." Remy grinned again, and Pietro suppressed a groan at the obvious flirting. Jesus, they were _cops_. They were supposed to be _professional_. They stepped into the elevator, and Remy took a moment to put the mirrored wall to use – he swept his fingers through his untidy hair, adjusted his sunglasses, and flipped up the collar of his coat. Pietro rolled his eyes again. _Goddamn southern cops._  

When they stepped out onto the fifth floor, the receptionist led them down the corridor and around a corner – and there was the unmistakable uniform of NYPD officers. Remy turned to the receptionist and thanked her with yet another charming smile, and sent her off blushing and giggling like a schoolgirl. 

"If you're done flirting, can we get to work?" It came out before he could stop it, and for a moment Pietro tensed, waiting for the reprimand he was sure would follow. Remy, to his surprise, only laughed. 

"Remy's never done flirting, mon ami." He clapped Pietro on the shoulder, and then he stepped forward to speak to the two officers standing guard outside the door. "Officers." Pietro knew Bobby and John on sight, and they'd had a few drinks together once or twice in the past. 

"Detective Maximoff." Bobby gave him a nod, and then his gaze shifted to Remy. "Sorry, you are…?" Remy held up his badge, and smirked as they both immediately straightened up. "Sorry, Lieutenant." 

"Not to worry, gentlemen." Remy waved them off, tucking his badge back onto his belt. "So, what's de situation?" 

"Male victim still unidentified – no wallet or other identification on the body at first glance, and we were reluctant to touch anything until CSI gets here. Room is booked under the name of Adam Richards, who hotel staff can confirm is not the deceased." Bobby told him, glancing over his shoulder at the room beyond the open door. "Hotel manager is down in security getting copies of the footage from last night and this morning." 

"There's still no sign of the guy occupying the room, so he's looking to see if he even came back here last night." John added. "We've got the housekeeper in a staff breakroom with a colleague. Took an initial statement from her but we figured you'd want to hear it for yourself." 

"Good work, lads." Remy nodded, and then he turned to Pietro. "We'll take de housekeeper in a few. Let's go take a look." Pietro gave a nod to Bobby and John as he followed Remy into the hotel room – and watched Remy switch from charming flirt to cop in about three seconds flat. 

The sunglasses came off, tucked into an inside pocket in his coat, and he circled around the bed with very careful movements, watching where he stepped without once taking his eyes off the scene in front of him. He pulled a recorder from another pocket, and clicked it on. 

"LeBeau, Lieutenant Remy, recordin' on scene." He murmured, crouching so he was at eye-level with the man sprawled on his front on the bed. "Room is booked under a Mr Adam Richards, whereabouts unknown as hotel staff confirms he is not de victim. Victim is, at a guess, t'irty years o' age, male, as yet unidentified. No wounds visible as o' yet, ot'er dan some heavy bruisin' around de t'roat. We'll know more when crime scene gets here an' we can roll him." He straightened up, surveyed the rest of the room – and as he did so, Pietro caught his first glimpse of Remy's eyes. 

He was thrown for a moment, and he hoped he didn't show on his face. For a moment he'd thought he was still wearing his sunglasses even though he knew he'd taken them off, because he was met with solid black where they should be white – but then he registered the burning red irises, and realised Remy had possibly the most unique eyes he'd ever seen. 

"De room seems undisturbed – no signs o' a struggle, no signs o' forced entry." He shook his head slowly. "We won' know more until we can find out who dis guy is, an' where de hell Mr Richards is." He switched off the recorder, and turned his attention to Pietro. "T'oughts?" Pietro blinked, and realised he'd been staring. He tore his gaze away, and pretended to study the room. 

"My first impression tells me whoever this guy is, he knew his killer." He began, circling the bed as Remy had done. "Since I'm not much of a believer in coincidence, I bet there's a connection to Adam Richards – if he didn't kill him, then he knows him, or whoever killed this guy does." He gestured around at the room Remy had described as undisturbed. "No signs of a struggle, as you said. No furniture overturned, nothing broken, no obvious defensive wounds on what we can see of the body. It was quick, too sudden for him to fight. It doesn't look like he struggled against whatever was used to strangle him, either, so it's possible he was unconscious before it happened." He shrugged at Remy's lifted eyebrow. "Someone puts something around your throat – hands, scarf, rope – and starts squeezing, you're gonna claw at it. But there are no scratches, just the bruising." 

"Nice ta know Remy ain' workin' wit' morons." Remy grinned. "Oui, dis guy was out cold – drugged, probably, since dere's no obvious head injury dat could knock him out – when he was strangled. Didn' even know it was happenin'." He studied the body, switched the recorder back on. "Victim – who we'll call John Doe until an ID is made – is dressed casually, smart shirt an' jeans, nice boots. Probably on a nigh' out, eh?" He bent as close to the body as he could without potentially contaminating the scene – and sniffed. "Nice cologne you got on dere, boy. Definitely a nigh' out. Out on de prowl, were ya?" 

"Did you just sniff a dead body?" He straightened, and turned to grin at Pietro. 

"We got more senses dan sight, Detective. Usin' 'em gives us more info'mation." He shrugged, gestured at the body. "Dis isn' what you'd expect from a sex crime – de body is clot'ed, not posed, an' as far as we can see dere's no mutilation to genital areas. But he's all dressed up, wearin' nice cologne, styled himself up all nice. Could be our Mr Richards is into de fellas, an' dis is a date o' his." When Pietro continued to stare at him, Remy rolled his eyes. "Gotta t'ink o' everyt'in' until we know more facts. Don' rule anyt'in' out." 

"I know that." He almost snapped it out, but he caught himself at the last minute. He didn't quite know why he was so on edge, but he knew it had _something_ to do with Remy. They both turned as a new face appeared in the doorway – a face Pietro recognised well. 

"Hi, sorry." She swept into the room, red hair tied high up out of her face, a smart suit covered by a protective white coat. She paused as she studied Remy, and then stepped forward with a hand outstretched. "Jean Grey, ME. I got held up in some traffic." Remy shook her hand, and flashed her the same smile he'd given the receptionist in the lobby. 

"A pleasure, ma cherie." She stepped back, putting her bag on the floor before rummaging inside it to extract a pair of gloves. "Lieutenant Remy LeBeau." 

"So you're the new LT?" Jean smiled up at him as she gathered her essential tools, and straightened up, moving to the body. "How are you finding New York?" She bent over the body, studying it for a moment. 

"Nice city." Remy shifted his weight, cocking one hip out very slightly. Pietro held back yet another groan – if Remy was a peacock, his tail would be fanning out right about now. 

"It has its moments." Jean laughed a little. "The CSI team are on their way. They got held up, too, at another scene. Caught this one on a busy day, I'm afraid." She stepped back, paused. "I can't move the body yet, not until CSI have taken their photos, but at a guess I'd say he's only been dead a few hours. I'll confirm, but for now I put my estimate at around six this morning, possibly an hour earlier." 

"Alrigh, t'anks. Well, since we can' do anyt'in' else until CSI clear de scene, let's go talk to de housekeeper." He tapped two fingers to his temple and gave Jean a salute before he stepped out into the corridor once more. "CSI will be here soon." He told Bobby and John. "You said de housekeeper is in a staff breakroom?" 

"Yes, sir. First floor, off the lobby. Officer Rasputin is with her." When Pietro raised his eyebrows, Bobby smiled a little. "He was on scene when he heard the commotion. Following up a lead relating to another case. He was the one who told the hotel manager to call it in whilst he secured the scene." 

"Okay, thanks." Pietro gave them a nod – and caught John's intense stare focused directly on Remy's face. More specifically, his eyes. Remy must have noticed too, because he very casually reached into his coat and withdrew his sunglasses, and perched them back on his face. 

"Righ', let's go talk to her. She got a name, Drake?" 

"Ah, yes. Of course, sorry sir. Clara. Clara Mills." Remy gave Bobby a nod in much the same way Pietro had, and then he turned, catching Pietro by the elbow as he began to lead him back down the corridor. Pietro glanced down, surprised at the contact, but he said nothing. 

"So, Miss Grey." Remy began once they stepped into the elevator to head back down to the lobby. "She seems nice." 

"She's engaged." Pietro cut in smoothly. "Before you get any ideas." He glanced sideways at Remy, lifting one eyebrow subtly. "To your predecessor, actually." 

"Remy was jus' makin' an observation, Detective." But his grin gave him away. "Lieutenant Summers, righ'? He transferred out to anot'er division?" 

"Yeah." Pietro shrugged one shoulder. "Went over to Illegals as far as I know. Some cops just aren't cut out for Homicide." 

"It's a tough job." Remy ran his fingers through his hair idly, and then flashed a grin at Pietro. "But someone's gotta do it, eh?" When the doors opened and Remy stepped out into the lobby, Pietro realised he was smiling. Maybe Remy wasn't so bad. 

But then Remy leant against the front desk and turned his charm on the receptionist again, and Pietro fought the urge to bang his head against something solid. 

When Remy finally managed to tear himself away from the pretty young lady, they were directed to the breakroom, and Pietro led the way if only to get away from the damn flirt before he spoke out of turn again. Officer Piotr Rasputin sat on a plush sofa next to a trembling petite blonde, whose hands shook around the plastic cup of water she held. Another young woman sat on her other side, her arm around Clara's shoulders as she murmured something no doubt intended to soothe her, and an older man hovered nearby, holding several discs in one hand. The hotel manager, almost certainly. 

"Miss Mills?" She looked up, water sloshing out of the cup and over her hand as she jerked in surprise. The other woman mopped up the spill with a tissue in a manner which made it clear it wasn't the first time it had happened. "I'm Detective Maximoff, and this is Lieutenant LeBeau. We'd like to speak with you, go over what happened." 

"I already spoke to the police." Her voice was thin and soft, and it trembled. She glanced quickly at Piotr, who put a hand on her arm and smiled gently. 

"It's okay, Clara." He turned to them, offered Remy a polite smile. Remy moved forward and perched himself on the coffee table opposite Clara, and this time his smile was soft and friendly – but Pietro noticed he didn't remove his sunglasses. 

"Clara – is it okay if Remy calls you dat?" When she nodded, his smile widened. "We jus' need to hear it from you, fo' de record. It won' take long, promise." He pulled a notebook out of his pocket, along with a pen. "So if you would start from de beginnin', an' jus' tell us everyt'in' you can." Clara took a deep breath, looked to her friend for comfort, and then nodded. 

"Okay. Well." Her voice trembled again, and she took a moment to compose herself. "I was just doing my morning routine – we do an early turndown service here, unless requested otherwise. If the do not disturb sign isn't hanging on the door, we go right on in – change the towels, make the bed, restock the little kitchenette if necessary." Remy let her walk herself through it, didn't rush her. Pietro appreciated that. "Adam – Mr Richards – he's usually in the room when I go in, watching the news before he heads out for the day. He's always polite and talks to me as I work," she trailed off, and sent a glance at the older man as if worried he'd disapprove, but he only smiled in encouragement, "and he's very pleasant. He didn't answer when I knocked, and you're supposed to knock again just in case – but the door was ajar, so I just walked in. I thought maybe he just hadn't heard or something, so I called out as I walked in." 

"De door was open?" Remy prompted, and Clara blinked in surprise as if she'd forgotten she'd said that. 

"Oh. Yes. It was odd, but sometimes guests prop the doors open for some air circulation whilst they're inside, or the automatic closing mechanism gets jammed a little – a good rap will fix it, but sometimes they don't notice, so I didn't really think much of it." Remy made notes as she spoke, quick strokes with the pen, and from where he stood Pietro could see that he had long, elegant handwriting. 

"So you walk righ' in – what would you do first? De towels, de bed?" 

"The towels. I always collect towels first. I left my cart outside and grabbed some fresh towels, because Adam always needs fresh ones. I… I think I dropped them, I'm not sure." She shook her head as she went back to that moment in her mind, the moment she walked in and saw the dead man on the bed. "I saw someone lying on the bed but I was too distracted with what I was doing that I didn't really look properly. I just started talking – good morning Mr Richards, that sort of thing – and then when he didn't answer I turned to look because I thought he might have been asleep, or something." She paused, took a sip of water. "When I saw him – the man – passed out on top of the bed in his clothes, I thought maybe there was something wrong. Adam had said he was going out yesterday morning, he told me he was going out somewhere nice that evening so he'd probably have the do not disturb sign on the door, but it wasn't there so I assumed he hadn't got back as late as he'd thought." 

"So what did you next?" Remy urged, scribbling down a note to himself to check the security discs for what time Adam left the hotel. 

"I think I dropped my towels. Or I put them on the chair… I don't remember. But I put them down, and I walked over to see if he was okay. My brother once passed out like that after a party and he was really drunk and he'd thrown up, so I was thinking of that, and thought I'd better see if he was okay. But then… then I realised it wasn't Adam on the bed." 

"Had you ever seen de man befo'? Had he come in befo', did you ever see him wit' Adam?" 

"No. I don't think so." She shook her head. "I went to touch him – to shake him, see if I could wake him up, but then I noticed the bruising on his neck and I knew something wasn't right. I… I did touch him. I checked his pulse, because I told myself if I just walked away and he was still alive, then he might not be when I got back with some help, but… but he was dead." Her voice cracked, and her friend quickly moved closer, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. 

"It's okay, Clara. Just tell them everything and then I can take you home, okay?" 

"Did you touch anyt'in' else in de room, Clara? Did you notice anyt'in' out o' place?" Remy prompted, and she took another drink of water before she answered. 

"No. I… I don't think so. No." She shook her head. "I ran out, calling for help. I was shouting so loud, I… I probably disturbed so many guests… I don't know how long I was shouting for but then Mr Edwards was there, and this nice Officer. I didn't go back in there, I couldn't. It was only after the other two officers got here that I realised I hadn't seen Adam anywhere." 

"Okay. T'ank you, Clara." Remy reached over and gently touched a hand to her arm. "We'll let you get on home now, but we may need to contact you again, so don' go anywhere, eh?" He grinned, and she gave him a weak smile in return. 

"Go with her, Amy. I'll give you both the rest of the day off. She shouldn't be alone." The older man – Mr Edwards – told the other woman, who nodded. 

"Come on, Clara. Let's get you home." Whilst Clara gathered up her coat and her bag from a locker, Remy turned to Officer Rasputin. 

"T'anks fo' stickin' wit' de witness, Officer." He held out a hand, which Piotr shook with a smile. "Appreciate de time you put in." 

"It's not a problem, sir." He gave another smile to Pietro. "But I should be heading back to the station. I have reports to write up." 

"O' course. T'anks again." As Piotr left, holding open the door for the two ladies, Remy turned on the hotel manager. "Yo' Mr Edwards, oui?" 

"Yes." Mr Edwards held out the security discs. "When I learned it wasn't Mr Richards lying dead in that room, I thought you'd want to see these. I haven't gone through them myself, but it should cover the lobby and the fifth floor from six-thirty yesterday morning right through to an hour before you arrived." 

"Thanks." Pietro took them from him, and slipped them into an evidence bag. "Can you tell us anything more about Mr Richards?" 

"There's not much to tell, I'm afraid. He booked online a month ago – standard room, booked in for a week, starting four days ago. I saw him once or twice in the lobby. Looked like a business type, always in a sharp suit. Clara or one of my other girls might be able to tell you more – two of them take that section of the hotel. Louise isn't in today, but she took the turndown service the day before yesterday, when Clara had the morning off." He paused, considered something. "Francis, our bartender, might know something. Mr Richards used the hotel bar on his first night – I was at the desk talking to another guest when he asked what time it closed – and Francis always gets them talking if he can. He'll be here at six, as he only works the evenings." Remy made notes of everything, and then tucked the notebook away. 

"T'ank you Mr Edwards. If you could give us de names an' contact details o' anyone who had contact wit' Mr Richards dat would save us time." He pulled out a card, and handed it over. "Dat's our number. If Mr Richards returns, den you call us, an' keep him somewhere until we arrive." 

"I'm afraid the room will be out of use until we can clear the scene, which could be a while. I understand you have a lot of guests here, and on that floor in particular, but if possible you may wish to relocate those in the neighbouring rooms." Pietro suggested. "You may have a lot of cops going in and out for several hours." 

"I'll see what I can arrange, but if my guests do not wish to move then I shall not force them." Mr Edwards nodded. "If there is anything else you need, please, do not hesitate to ask." Remy turned as if to head to the door, and then he stopped and turned back. 

"One last t'ing, monsieur." When Mr Edwards raised his eyebrows in question, Remy went on. "Did you get a good look at de deceased?" He nodded. "Had you ever seen dat man befo'?" 

"Not that I can recall, no. Do you know who he is?" 

"Not at dis moment. It's possible he's anot'er guest here. If it looks dat way, we'll run de name by you, see if it sounds familiar – if not, we'll have to check yo' logs to see if it matches any o' yo' guests." 

"Of course. Anything you need, Lieutenant, Detective." He held out a hand, and they shook it in turn. As they walked back to the elevator to head back up to the crime scene, Remy took out his notebook and went over his notes. Pietro glanced over and noticed – with a spark of interest – that the notes were all written in French. 

"Are we looking at Adam specifically at this moment?" He asked, just to break the silence. 

"At de moment we don' know where we're lookin'." Remy shrugged, tucking the notebook away again. "But Adam is our top suspect until we have evidence dat says ot'erwise. We'll run de security discs when we get back to de station, see if we can pin our boy headin' out or comin' back – if he came back at all." 

"We'll need that ID on the deceased before we can start looking for motive." Pietro sighed. "CSI should be here by now, which means Jean will have more for us. Maybe we have an ID." 

"Let's go find out den, eh?" Remy put a hand on Pietro's shoulder as the elevator reached the fifth floor, and Pietro was once again surprised at the contact – he wasn't a very physical person, so the touch was strange to him. But then, he mused, Remy himself was rather strange to him, so that was no surprise. 

\-- 

By the time CSI had done their sweep of the room, collecting evidence, dusting for prints – the usual – Jean had been able to determine time of death as five forty-three that morning, and cause of death was definitely strangulation. She had him bagged and tagged, and sent down to the morgue for an autopsy to determine any other factors that might have played a part in his death – and whilst Remy studied the scene again, Pietro ran the fingerprints Jean had provided. 

"Get anyt'in'?" Remy asked, turning away from the bed to face him. Pietro looked up from his handheld scanner. 

"Not yet, but it's a huge database." He let the machine do its run, and he stepped up beside Remy. "What's on your mind?" 

"What did de killer use?" Remy gestured around them. "De bruisin' doesn' fit wit' manual strangulation, an' Jean confirmed it, so what did dey use? Not'in' left behind dat stands out, so did dey take it wit' dem?" 

"Did CSI check the bathrobes?" Remy turned to him, and Pietro shrugged. "Just a thought. Bathrobes-," 

"Have belts." Remy nodded, and he strode towards the en-suite. He emerged a moment later, shaking his head. "Dere's a hook fo' one, but it ain' dere. We'll check wit' housekeepin', see if dey replace dem an' when." Remy studied the room once more, and realised he'd get nothing else from the scene until he knew what he was looking for. "Nice catch." Pietro didn't know how to respond to the compliment – he was still unsure about Remy, even if he was proving to be a good cop despite his appearance that suggested otherwise. 

He was saved by his handheld signalling that it had finished the scan – and he sighed. No matches found. Remy glanced over his shoulder, and also gave a sigh of frustration. 

"Well, whoever our dead guy is, he's not in de database. Let's get back to Central an' find out what our missin' Mr Richards was up to last nigh'." Pietro scowled down at the handheld – he'd been hoping it would give him _something_. He looked up at Remy's soft laugh, and then a hand was pressed to the back of his neck, warm and firm, but the touch was gentle. "Don' worry, Pietro. We'll find him." Remy murmured, as he was suddenly rather too close for Pietro's liking. "De t'ing you'll learn 'bout Remy is dat he don' give up. Not on anyt'in'." Those odd eyes peered into his own over the top of his sunglasses, the gaze fiercely intense, and Pietro felt a flush creeping up his neck. 

And then Remy pulled away, and he strode to the door, coattails billowing slightly with the motion. Pietro exhaled slowly, and lifted his hand to tug again at his collar. 

He could see this becoming a problem.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro still doesn't know what to make of the new Lieutenant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning: don't get used to a regular update schedule, because I have three other ongoing fics at the moment. The only reason I've got this chapter out so soon after the first is because the motivation and inspiration for this one is stronger at the moment. I'll try to be as quick as I can with updates, of course, but don't go thinking it'll always be this fast. I don't want to disappoint any of you ;_;
> 
> Also I have 55 pages of headcanons and story notes for this fic, so you're in for a long ride, guys.
> 
> And a final note regarding New York: I have never been there myself, so my knowledge is limited to what I've read/watched and Google Maps, but I want to stress that this is not intended to be in any way accurate. So you'll get places and buildings and things that don't exist, and only loosely based on correct geography. I'm also not settling for a specific date, so technology etc doesn't have to be perfectly accurate either.

Pietro survived the ride back to the station – just about. If Remy was going to call on him for cases often, he was definitely going to have to get used to his driving. Or insist on driving himself, though he didn't imagine that would go down well with his Lieutenant. Still, he had to admire a man who liked speed and handled it well. 

Not that he was admiring Remy. Better not open that door. 

"You take de security discs, see if you can pinpoint our Mr Richards leavin' de hotel, get an idea o' what he was wearin'." Remy ordered as they rode the elevator back up to Homicide. "If he don' show again after he left, den we'll put out an APB on him, show his picture to de public, see if anyone's spotted him." 

"Got that." Pietro nodded, taking out the evidence bag with the security discs. They were all labelled efficiently, and as the elevator opened he fished them out and sorted through them. Remy left him at his desk, sliding into his office as he shrugged out of his coat, and Pietro caught himself before he stared too long. At least he could busy himself with work and forget about him for an hour or three. 

He sat himself down and groaned as he realised he hadn't finished his report yet, and figured he'd have to fit that in around this new case whenever he could. Or, he'd have to take it home with him, and finish it on his own time. It wouldn't be the first time he'd taken the job home with him, of course, and it wasn't like it bothered him too much. He saved and closed the report for now, and then loaded up the first of the discs. 

He brought up Adam Richards' drivers license in another window and moved it to one corner, setting up the system for facial recognition as he ran through the discs. This was a standard procedure, and he could probably have delegated it to someone else – but he welcomed the distraction of work. He worked his way through the footage, keeping a look out for their victim amongst the sea of faces that swam across the screen as the hours ticked by at speed. 

Pietro had always been good at picking people out of security footage even at fast speeds. He just had good eyes, but the other detectives joked that he was some sort of superhuman. Pietro scoffed at that, but he let them have their jokes. He had enough trouble on his hands with Cortez – he didn't want to alienate his other colleagues and risk them turning on him, too. He'd never get anywhere if he was hated by the rest of the department, after all. 

He found Adam leaving the hotel at nine-twenty-six the previous evening, and he froze the footage and went back frame-by-frame until he had a clear shot of him. He printed off the image – one full-length, one close-up on his face – and put them to one side, and went back to scanning the discs. He didn't want to go to Remy just yet – and this way he had the excuse of checking for Adam's return, if he ever made one. 

"There you are, son of a bitch." Pietro muttered under his breath as the computer froze the frame yet again as facial recognition kicked in. Adam Richards paused mid-stride in the hotel lobby at two-thirty that morning. Pietro sent the image to the printer, and let the footage run once more. He watched Adam stride to the elevator, and then turn on his heel, hurrying back to the desk. He spoke with the young man who manned it for a moment, smiles were exchanged, and then he was jogging back to the elevator. 

Pietro brought up the footage from the fifth floor as Adam stepped into the elevator – and, sure enough, there he was getting out a couple of minutes later. He watched Adam head down to his hotel room, and step inside after fumbling with his keycard for a moment. 

"Nervous about something?" Pietro murmured, leaning forward as he sped the footage up a little, watching the minutes speed by. "You came back, so where did you go? And how did John Doe get into your room?" He slammed his finger onto the key to freeze the frame a moment later, and jumped up from his seat, heading straight for Remy's office. 

The Lieutenant was stretched out in his chair, feet propped up on his desk, legs crossed at the ankles. His gaze was fixed on his computer screen as he typed away on the keyboard he'd spread across his lap, and he glanced over as Pietro hovered in the doorway. Pietro forced himself to look away from those sinfully long legs, and focused on the job. 

"I've got something you might want to see." Pietro couldn't resist a smirk, and Remy raised an eyebrow. 

"Oui?" He dropped his legs from the desk and set the keyboard back in its place, hitting a command as he stood. Pietro merely crooked a finger as he turned and strode back to his desk – Remy grinned to himself before he followed. Pietro was sat in his chair by the time he got to his desk, and the grin faded into a more serious expression when he saw what was displayed on Pietro's screen. "Well, well. Dere's our dead guy." 

"I've got Adam leaving the hotel around nine-thirty, and coming back around two-thirty. He stopped at the front desk and spoke to the receptionist – this one was male, so we'll ask Mr Edwards for his name – and then went up to his room. Fifteen minutes later, John Doe steps off the elevator on the fifth floor and heads straight for Adam's room." Pietro sat back, gesturing with one hand at the screen. 

"Well, well, Monsieur Richards. Let's see what kind o' company you were expectin', eh?" Remy leant across Pietro to play the footage, and Pietro was treated to a sudden strong whiff of expensive aftershave. Damn. He even _smelled_ good. "Jus' look at dat. Guy's fiddlin' wit' his hair, tuggin' at his collar. Preening." 

"Wants to impress?" Pietro lifted his eyebrows, watching John Doe raise a hand to knock on Adam's door. "Adam seemed a bit nervous when he came back, fumbled with the keycard as he let himself in." 

"Oh yeah, dis jus' screams hot date." Remy grinned. "Dey're bot' hopin' to get lucky, you can see it in de body language." Adam opened the door, barely stepping into view of the camera, but there was enough of him on camera to verify the ID. As they watched, Adam reached out with one hand and tugged John Doe into the hotel room by the belt loops on his jeans. "Wonder if he got dat lucky night befo' he got dead." 

"One way to find out, I guess." Pietro murmured, dragging a hand through his hair. "We'll have to drop by the morgue, see if Jean's been able to open him up or run the standard tests." 

"Dat we will. Alrigh', you get dis all logged an' put in de file, an' send out dat APB on Adam Richards. Do we get him leavin' at any time?" Pietro moved forward, sped up the footage and ran it through the next few hours – but there was no sign of Adam. "Well, dere's de housekeeper comin' in to find Mr John Doe all dead on de bed. So we got a missin' guy who vacated de building via anot'er exit – most likely out de window an' down de fire escape – an' de unknown guy he clearly intended to hook up wit'." 

"The door." Pietro frowned a little. "Clara Mills said the door was ajar when she knocked – and if I go back a little… yeah, it's ajar. But Adam, or our John Doe, clearly shut it after he went inside." He rewound the footage, hit play, and watched the hotel room door click shut. "So somewhere between then and turndown service, someone opened the door." 

"Run it back, regular speed." Remy leant over his shoulder, treating Pietro to another whiff of aftershave. "Dere! Freeze frame." He reached over, tapped a finger to the screen. "De door opened. An' if we magnify… dere's a hand around it, holding it open. Play frame-by-frame." Pietro did as commanded, and they watched as the door opened a little further, and then closed again – but it didn't close all the way. 

"Changed his mind?" Pietro murmured, glancing at the time marker. "Look at the time. Five-forty-seven. John Doe had been dead four minutes by this point." 

"Guess our Mr Richards panicked, eh?" Remy straightened up. "Well den. Looks like we're headin' back to de hotel. We'll stop by de morgue on de way, see if Doctor Deat' has anyt'in' more fo' us." 

\-- 

Jean was just finishing up on their John Doe when they arrive at the morgue, and she gave them both a bright smile as she beckoned them inside. There were a couple of bodies covered by sheets in the room, and a couple of lab techs moved around carrying clipboards and files. 

"You got here just in time." She peeled on another pair of gloves and pulled back the sheet covering John Doe. "I've already established that cause of death was strangulation, but take a look." Remy circled around to the other side of the table, and bent over to peer at the man's neck. "I ruled out manual strangulation because the bruising didn't fit, but I'm starting to think some manual strangulation played a part." 

"So what, you t'ink de killer started wit' his hands an' den switched to somet'in' else?" Remy lifted his eyes to hers, and she nodded. 

"My guess is they couldn't get enough force behind it, and sought outside methods to finish the job." She straightened up, and reached for the chart beside the table. "I did the standard run of tests – he consumed alcohol an hour or so before time of death, and the contents of his stomach confirm. I found wine – of the red kind – and a dinner consisting of steak and vegetables." 

"A dinner date, eh?" Remy murmured. "Any traces o' drugs? Anyt'in' dat could knock him out cold?" 

"Not that I found in the initial run. I could run a few more specific tests, but in my professional opinion, we're not going to find anything like that." She flipped through the chart. "Besides being dead, this guy was perfectly healthy. Didn't even smoke." 

"Damn." Remy frowned, studying the body, and he fell silent. Pietro stepped forward. 

"Any signs of sexual activity?" 

"There were no signs of penetration, but I found traces of semen in his mouth and throat." She told him. Remy actually smirked a little. 

"Guess dat means yo' a spitter, eh?" Pietro felt himself flush, and he told himself it was purely because of the inappropriate nature of the comment. "So dat confirms it. Adam had himself a good nigh' wit' dis guy befo' somet'in' went wrong." He slowly circled the body until he stood beside Jean. "Since dere's no traces o' drugs, an' no signs dat he fought against de strangulation," he looked to Jean for confirmation, and she gave him a nod, "den it looks like de strangulation was part o' it." 

"What, like… a kink?" Pietro raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Asphyxiation as a form of sexual release?" 

"It's not uncommon." Remy shrugged. "Maybe our John Doe was into dat, asked Adam to indulge." 

"And it got out of hand?" Pietro frowned. "Wouldn't he have a safe word or a signal, something to let Adam know he wanted to stop?" 

"Almost certainly, but could be Adam didn't want to stop." Remy shrugged again. "Since it looks like he might o' used his hands firs', maybe dat wasn't enough fo' him an' so he moved onto somet'in' else – an' could be dat t'ings went too fast an' John Doe here slipped into unconsciousness befo' he knew what was happenin'." 

"So now we have to find Adam." Pietro sighed. "I put the APB out. Maybe that'll generate some results." 

"Maybe. In de meantime, we better get back to de hotel an' see what else we can find out from de staff." He gave Jean a wink. "T'anks cherie." 

"No problem, LT." She laughed softly, and gave him the same salute he'd given her earlier. "Go catch that killer, boys." Remy clapped a hand on Pietro's shoulder as they left the morgue, and Pietro found himself once again wondering at the constant physical contact. He could feel the heat of Remy's hand through his jacket, and he quickly shrugged him off. He caught the flash of surprise on Remy's face before it disappeared, and then Remy was back to business. 

"We'll get de staff list from Mr Edwards – anyone who had contact wit' Adam, along wit' de male receptionist from early dis mornin'. We'll talk to de bartender if we don' get anyt'in' from de ot'ers, see if he knows why Adam was in town." Remy glanced at the time, nodded to himself. "If need be, we'll track down associates or family o' his back home to find out. Do a run on him, get all de known info'mation we can."

"On it." It was definitely easier, and more comfortable, to talk business with him. "I've got a couple of uniforms manning the desk for any callers we might get from the APB, and Detective Lee has offered her time if we need any extra hands." 

"Good, good." Remy paused as they reached his car. "Dat's de petite young lady wit' de dark hair, oui? Chews gum?" Pietro smiled as he slid into the seat beside Remy. 

"That's the one." 

"T'ought so." Remy grinned. "Gonna have to get used to all de new names." As he pulled out onto the street and turned in the direction of the hotel, Pietro glanced over. 

"So why'd you transfer here?" He didn't really know why he was asking – he was curious, of course, but he made a point of not prying into anyone's lives unless offered the opportunity, or if the information was given willingly. He put it down to a simple desire to know a little more about the man he'd be answering to from now until he earned his own Lieutenant's shield and ran a division of his own. "I mean… New York is a long way from New Orleans." 

"Change o' scenery." Remy shrugged, swerving around a corner so fast Pietro was almost certain they'd just ran a red light. "Jus' wanted a change, dat's all." He took another corner at twice the speed he should have, and then screeched to a stop as the lights changed at the next intersection. "De Commander offered Remy de position, so he took it. Not much else to it." 

Pietro studied him slyly as he gunned the engine again, knowing there was more to it than that. He concealed enough about himself to know when someone else was doing the same. He judged Remy to be not much older than himself – maybe thirty, thirty-one at the most. Old enough to have deep roots in his hometown, possibly strong family ties. What would it take for a man to get up and leave that behind? 

Maybe there wasn't a family to leave behind. Maybe he was alone, and that made moving north easier. Maybe he was running from something. 

Or maybe he just took a new job, and there really was nothing more to it than that. 

When they pulled up outside the hotel, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and focused on the job instead. Remy turned the charm back on when they approached the receptionist, and in moments they were being shown into the hotel manager's office. 

"How can I assist you, gentlemen?" Mr Edwards sat behind a sturdy desk, looking weary. 

"We need to speak wit' a few o' your employees, Monsieur." Remy nodded at Pietro, who reached into the file he'd brought with him. He handed over the still from the security footage that showed Adam speaking with the male receptionist. "Startin' wit' dis one." Mr Edwards took the picture, and studied it for a moment. 

"That's Jamie, he works the night shift." He handed the picture back. "I'm afraid he'll be at home, asleep, by now. I can give you his number…" 

"His address, s'il vous plait." Remy cut in smoothly. "Along wit' de contact details o' de housekeepin' staff who had contact wit' Mr Richards, an' de bartender. Is dere anyone else who migh' have spoken wit' him?" 

"Other than myself, no…" Mr Edwards shook his head as he stood, crossing to a filing cabinet. "He's a suspect, isn't he?" 

"When a man is found dead in another's room, Mr Edwards, it's safe to say we suspect him." Pietro answered, watching the man as he flipped through the cabinet's contents until he found what he was looking for. He took out a leaf of paper and grabbed a pen from his desk, marking a few things off before he handed it over. 

"This is the list of employees. I've marked off the ones who had direct contact with Mr Richards." Pietro took it, and slipped it into the file for now. "What do I do if he comes back?" 

"What we already discussed, Monsieur. You pull him aside, bring him in here if necessary, an' you get someone to call us if you can' do it yo'self." Remy told him. "At dis point we have no reason to believe dat-," he broke off as his phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket, "-ah, one moment." He slipped out of the door, and answered. "Oui, Lieutenant LeBeau." 

_"Got something for you, LT."_  

"Ah, Miss Grey. An' what migh' dis somet'in' be?"

_"Oh, just an ID for your John Doe._ " 

"Jeanie, dat is music to Remy's ears." He grinned. "Alrigh', spill de beans cherie. Who do we have?" 

_"I ran dental records in the hope that it would give me something – and I found him. Your vic is one Mr Tyler King, twenty-nine years old, lives over in_ _Brooklyn_ _. I'll shoot the details to your handheld."_  

"T'anks, cherie. If yo' always dis good, Remy's gon' enjoy workin' wit' you." He disconnected the call, and stepped back into the office. "Monsieur Edwards, does de name Tyler King ring any bells fo' you?" Mr Edwards frowned a little, and then shook his head. 

"No, I'm afraid not." It took a moment, but then realisation dawned upon his face. "Is that-," 

"Oui. T'ank you fo' de information. We'll keep in touch, let you know when de scene is cleared." He turned for the door, and then remembered the bathrobe Pietro had mentioned earlier. "Monsieur… are dere bat'robes in de rooms?" 

"There should be, yes. We provide one for each occupant of the room." 

"And under what circumstances might hotel staff remove dem from bat'rooms?" Mr Edwards frowned again. 

"I imagine only if the guest requested a replacement. Why?" 

"Jus' curious. T'ank you fo' yo' time." Remy signalled to Pietro, and the two of them left the office. "Jean got us de ID from dental records. Tyler King, Brooklyn resident. She sent over de rest o' de details." Pietro nodded, fishing out his handheld to bring up the data. 

"Looks like he worked as a bartender in… oh." Pietro raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's not a surprise, considering." At Remy's questioning glance, he shrugged. "Local gay bar. We've had a few cases that have taken us down that route." He didn't add that he'd considered going in there for pleasure rather than business a few times. 

"It's possible dat's where he met Adam. Maybe dis isn' de firs' time de two o' dem got toget'er." He took the file from Pietro, and scanned the employees list. "We'll hit up Jamie Granger first, since he was de last one to speak to Adam as far as we're aware. Boy's probably gon' be pissed dat we woke him up." 

"They usually are." Pietro nodded. "But crime doesn't stop for nap-time." 

"Ain' dat de trut'." Remy laughed. 

\-- 

Jamie wasn't happy to be woken up, but his harsh complaint died on his lips the second he registered the two badges held in his face. 

"What the hell do cops want with me?" He asked, yawning as one hand rubbed at his eyes. 

"Detective Maximoff. This is Lieutenant LeBeau. Can we come in, Mr Granger?" Pietro stepped forward, and Jamie shrugged as he let them in. "We just need to ask you some questions regarding an incident that happened this morning." 

"Alright, sure. Don't know how I can help you, but I can try." He shrugged, gesturing for them to sit. Pietro took a seat on a plush leather couch, whilst Remy chose to stand. Clearly he was letting Pietro take the lead on this one. 

"You work as a receptionist for the Queens Hotel, is that correct?" Pietro asked, pretending to look at the information on his handheld. 

"That's right. Did something happen there?" 

"Haven' turned on de TV since you got back, eh?" Remy put in. 

"Nah. I'm always exhausted when I get home. Night shifts, y'know?" Jaime yawned again, as if to emphasise his words. "Got in and went straight to bed." He frowned now. "What's this about? Did somebody get hurt?" 

"Somebody got dead." Jamie's eyes widened at Remy's words, and Pietro fought the urge to scowl at his Lieutenant. 

"Somebody was killed at the hotel early this morning, and we believe there's a strong connection to one of the guests." He said quickly, drawing Jaime's eyes back to him. "You were one of the last staff members to speak with him." He drew out the picture once more, and held it up. "Do you recognise this man?" 

"That guy?" He peered at the picture, and then nodded. "Yeah, man, that's uh… Richards. Adam Richards." He nodded again, more confident this time. "I remember 'cause he dropped by this morning sometime after two, and told me he had a special guest coming to visit and if I could direct them up." 

"Did he tell you anything else?" 

"Not exactly." Jaime shrugged one shoulder. "But I knew what kind of guest he had coming to see him at two in the morning. Don't have to be a genius to work that out." 

"Did he do this regularly?" 

"Not that I know of." He shrugged again. "I was pretty surprised, if I'm honest. I mean, we get people entertaining 'guests' at all hours of the night like that all the time – they want to keep it a bit secret, y'know? Don't want to walk in together, get caught on the cameras. None of my business, so I say sure, I'll let them know. Figured Adam was just one of those guys cheatin' on his wife or something." 

"And you were surprised?" Pietro prompted. 

"Well yeah, 'cause I was expecting some hot chick in killer heels to come striding through the doors, but instead it was a guy. Pretty attractive guy, not gonna lie about that – I may not swing that way but hell I can appreciate when someone looks good. Just didn't figure Richards for that kinda thing." Jamie scratched at his jaw, his nails catching on a couple of day's worth of stubble. "And you could tell just from looking at him that he was ready to get lucky. Had that look in his eye. So I direct him up to Adam's room, now thinking he's cheating on his wife and lying about being gay. But hey, not my problem." Jamie frowned again. "Hey, did he kill the guy?" 

"Dis is de gentleman you directed up to Room five-oh-six?" Remy nodded to Pietro, who showed him the display on his handheld, which contained Tyler King's photo. 

"Yeah, that's the guy." Jaime nodded. 

"Had you spoken with Adam Richards previously? Did he say anything else to you?" 

"Nah, nah. Just to direct his company to his room." Jamie ran a hand through short blond hair, and sighed. "Should I not have done that? I mean, one of them got killed, right? Could I have stopped that?" 

"Non, Jamie." Remy stepped closer, and put a hand on his shoulder. "We don' t'ink it was planned. Detective Maximoff will leave you a card, an' if you t'ink o' anyt'in' else – even de smallest detail – you give us a call an' tell us, oui?" 

"Yeah, yeah… sure." He nodded, taking the card Pietro held out to him. "Hey, man… I know it's just my word on it, but that Adam guy… he was definitely hiding the gay thing, if that's what it was. Not like the other guy. You know when you look at someone and you just _know_? Yeah, I got that from the other guy." 

"Oui, Remy knows." Remy smirked, and Pietro felt himself flush when his eyes slid in his direction. "T'ank you fo' yo' time, Monsieur Granger. We're sorry to have disturbed you." 

"Nah, I get it. Glad I could help, I guess." When they left Jamie to go back to bed, Remy dragged a hand through his hair and left it looking even more untidy. 

"Startin' to t'ink dat if we dig into Adam's life, we're gon' find he seems as straight as an arrow." He commented as they went back to the car. "Maybe dat's what he was doin' in town." 

"In the closet and taking a break to be himself?" Pietro kept his tone light, knowing he was treading into uncomfortable waters. The glance Remy had shot his way had unnerved him – he couldn't know, could he? He was _very_ good at hiding it. 

"Might be." Remy agreed. "Guess we'll have to dig deeper. We'll head back to de station – you call up de ot'er housekeeper, see if she has anyt'in' to add. Den you talk to Adam's family, friends, co-workers, whoever you can find, see what more we can learn 'bout him an' see if dis closeted-homosexual angle is on track." 

"What will you do?" Pietro asked, hearing the hint of dread in Remy's voice. He knew what Remy would be doing, of course. The one thing cops hated doing more than anything else. 

"Remy will be tellin' some poor mot'er dat her boy ain' comin' home fo' Sunday dinner no more." 

\-- 

Man, he hated breaking the news to family. 

After dropping Pietro at the station he'd called up the address for Tyler King's next of kin – his mother, father and younger sister in Brooklyn – and had driven over there with a heavy heart. Still, at least they had his name and could start to give the family closure. It didn't make it easier, especially when the mother had collapsed against him and begged him to take it back. 

He really, really hated that part of the job. 

He pulled back into his spot in the department's garage and killed the engine, and he sat back for a moment, pulling the sunglasses from his face. 

_"Is yo' fat'er home, Monsieur Remy? We need ta speak wit' him."_

_"Non. What is it, officers? Has somet'in' happened?"_

_"It's… it's 'bout Henri. I'm very sorry…"_  

Tears threatened to spring into his eyes, and so he hurriedly slipped his sunglasses back on and climbed out of the car. Now was not the time to think about that, to think about the brother he lost. He'd been on the receiving end of one of those visits, and he knew how raw the grief was. 

He hated that he had to do that to other people, but it was part of the job. And at least that meant he could promise them to their faces that he'd do everything in his power to bring the killer to justice. 

He bent and checked his reflection in the wing mirror, dragging his fingers through his hair and ruffling it up a little. Good. He looked the same as always. He strode through the garage to the elevator, and turned his thoughts to the stiff Detective Maximoff. 

There was definitely something more beneath the surface with that one. It was practically begging to be let out, and it had tugged at Remy's curiosity until he could no longer ignore it. He'd just have to find out more about Pietro. Plus, he was very easy on the eyes, which had definitely not gone unnoticed. 

When he stepped out into Homicide, his eyes found the shock of slicked-back white hair over the top of a computer screen, and he grinned. Whatever was beneath the surly exterior, Pietro was an efficient cop, and always eager to work. 

"Got anyt'in'?" He perched himself on the corner of Pietro's desk, and smirked at the brief flash of annoyance in his eyes – which, Remy noted, were a steely, icy blue. 

"Housekeeper Louise didn't have anything to add to what Clara told us. She only spoke to him to once, and not for very long." Pietro sat back and looked up to meet his Lieutenant's gaze – as best he could, considering the sunglasses were back in place. "I did ask about the bathrobes, but she claimed it was still hanging in the bathroom when she changed the towels." 

"So it's lookin' more an' more like de belt was used as de murder weapon." Remy nodded. "Did you talk to Adam's friends an' family?" 

"I got through to his boss in Ohio – he works at an office supplies company, booked the week off work for personal vacation. He didn't tell anyone where he was going or what he planned to do, just said he needed a break." Pietro scanned through his notes from the various calls he'd made. "There's no spouse on record, so I spoke to a friend – the boss gave me his name, said if anyone knew what Adam was doing in New York, it'd be him – and he gave me the impression Adam was here to hook up with a woman he'd been talking to for the past two weeks." 

"Yeah, dat so?" Remy raised his eyebrows. "Did dis friend ever speak to or meet dis woman Adam was supposedly seein'?" 

"No." Pietro shook his head. "Said it was an online thing – some dating website he figured, but he can't confirm. Adam only ever referred to her as Ty, so I think it's pretty clear he was talking about Tyler." 

"So he meets a guy online, dey get talkin', arrange to meet up in person fo' a date an' some fun between de sheets." Remy nodded, rising from Pietro's desk. "Adam gives no indication o' being gay to any degree, hides de fact he's talkin' to a guy to his friend, an' doesn' wanna be seen comin' back to de hotel wit' him, jus' in case." 

"Definitely in the closet." Pietro sighed. "Could be motive. Maybe Tyler threatened to out him?" 

"Maybe." Remy agreed. "People have killed fo' less, an' being gay is still a touchy subject fo' some people." The tone of his voice had Pietro lifting his eyes again. "Remy don' see why people can' jus' get over it, really. Ain' not'in' wrong wit' it." 

"It's not that easy for some people." He tried to catch himself before he spoke, but it was too late. At least he hadn't sounded that defensive – or he hoped he hadn't. 

"Non, but it shouldn' have to be difficult, eit'er." Remy sighed. "Alrigh', so we got a potential motive, a possible murder weapon dat's missin' from de scene, an' a killer on de loose. We need to find Adam." 

"We've had no luck so far with the APB. Jubilee – ah, Detective Lee – she's talking to Tyler's friends right now, finding out if he said anything to them about Adam or his plans last night." Pietro hesitated for a moment. He'd passed over the information to Jubilee without even blinking, but it occurred to him now that maybe the Lieutenant would have preferred to have it run by him first. He'd mentioned her offer to help, of course, but that wasn't the same. "Sorry, I should have run that by you first, but-," 

"Non, non. Dat's good. Good t'inkin', an' dat leaves us clear to drop by de bartender an' show Adam's face around a few places o' interest." Remy grinned, and patted Pietro's shoulder. "Get yo' coat, Detective." 

"Oh. Sure." Pietro stood, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair. Evidently Remy liked to get as much work into one day as possible – something Pietro could respect. "Where are we going first?" Remy flashed him another grin over his shoulder. 

"To a gay bar." 

Pietro groaned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy brings Pietro coffee.

The bar was quiet given the time of day, but there were enough people inside to pay attention when two cops walked through the door. A couple of guys quietly slid away to a back room, and Pietro considered going after them – but he'd seen the way their hands had touched as they walked, and knew they weren't making themselves scarce because cops were in the building. Their minds were on something far from that. 

Remy led the way, heading straight for the almost empty bar and the man standing behind it, chatting enthusiastically with a customer. Pietro followed behind, allowing his eyes to wander over a couple of the men they passed. One of them was the type he found himself going after – bigger in build than he was, though not by much, with dark hair and an air of dominance about him. 

_You're on the job, Pietro,_ he reminded himself. _No time for window-shopping._ Plus, he didn't want Remy catching on. The last thing he needed was for his sexuality to become a thing that got talked about in the station. The bartender made his way towards them, but he hesitated as a phone rang from a back room. 

"Excuse me gentlemen. I'll be with you in a sec." He flashed them a charming smile, and hurried off to answer the call. Remy leant back against the bar, content to wait, and let his eyes roam around the room – it was a fairly nice place, and it would be useful to know which establishments he might like to frequent now that he lived in the city. He caught sight of one young man who seemed entirely taken with Pietro, and he grinned. 

"Looks like you got some friendly attention, Detective." He murmured, glancing sideways at him just in time to see Pietro's shoulders stiffen, and his hand came up to tug at his collar. Pietro knew exactly who he was talking about, and if he was honest he was actually enjoying the attention – but he couldn't let Remy know that. And as much as he wanted to get the guy's number for a one night stand at most, this place was far too public, and there was no way he was going to shake Remy off for long enough to even entertain the idea of flirting back. 

"Might I remind you that we're working?" Pietro murmured, turning away rather reluctantly. Remy rolled his eyes. 

"Are you always dis stiff?" He asked, though Pietro was spared any further comment as the bartender returned. 

"Sorry about that. I've been expecting a call from my sister – she's having a baby." The man beamed, sweeping shaggy blond hair out of his eyes. 

"Congratulations." Remy flashed him a grin, and then flashed his badge. 

"Oh." The man's smile turned a little sly, and more than a little flirtatious. "I thought I recognised cop." He leant on the bar, fingers toying with the open collar of his shirt. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" Pietro wanted to roll his eyes at the obvious flirting, but he held it back. 

"You de owner?" 

"That's me." The man nodded. "Clayton Jones. I'm not in any trouble, am I? My licenses are all up to date, and we don't get trouble here." Remy shook his head, pulling an ID photo from one of his pockets.

"You got a bartender who works here, Tyler King." He laid the photo down on the bar, and Clayton studied it for a moment before he nodded.

"Sure, that's Ty." He frowned now, flirting forgotten. "If you're looking at Ty for something, you've probably got the wrong guy. He stays out of trouble. He's a good guy." 

"De two o' you friends, Clayton?" Remy slipped the photo back into his pocket. 

"Yeah, sure. He's worked here a couple of years, but he was a regular before that. We hooked up once, way back, but it wasn't anything serious. We stayed friends, often went on the prowl together. We weren't super close, but we were friends." Remy watched as something clicked in Clayton's head, and his pretty green eyes went dark. "Has something happened to Ty?" 

"Sorry to tell you, Clayton, but Ty's dead." He waited a beat, watched the disbelief slide into place on his face. "He was killed dis mornin', an' we suspect it was de guy he was hookin' up wit'." 

"Shit. You… you're sure?" Clayton's fingers dragged through his hair. "It's really Ty? He's dead?" 

"I'm afraid so." Pietro spoke up. "As a friend, he would have told you about seeing someone, right?" 

"Yeah, yeah… shit, he went on about this guy for a while…" Clayton shook his head slowly, still processing. "Damn."

"Tell us 'bout de guy, Clayton." Remy prompted. 

"Right, yeah. Uh. He was from out of town, Ty kept telling people how he'd met this guy online. A couple of people scoffed at that, y'know, 'cause you can never tell who you're really talking to, but he said how they'd Skype'd a few times, so he knew he was genuine." Clayton stepped back from the bar, and poured himself a drink. "Sorry, this is just… it hits hard when it's someone you know." He downed the drink in one, and then poured another, which he ignored. "I didn't ask too much about him 'cause we weren't that close, like I said, but he was super excited these past few days. Said Adam was in town and they were gonna meet in person, go on a date, all that shit." Clayton's eyes narrowed. "You think it was Adam who killed him?" 

"Seems to be lookin' dat way, oui." Remy drew out another photograph, and laid it on the bar. "Dis is de man known as Adam Richards. Tyler was found in his hotel room, an' Adam is in de wind. You seen dis guy around befo'? Did he come in here?" 

"Shit, yeah that's Adam." Clayton nodded. "Ty was working night before last, and he came in to see him. Came in early, when the bar isn't so busy, so he could stand there and chat to him a bit, y'know? Honestly if Ty wasn't working they'd have been heading out back for a quickie, the way they were with each other." Clayton shrugged one shoulder, glancing down at the drink he'd poured. "After he left, Ty got this stupid little grin on his face, and I overheard him telling one of our girls that he was excited for his date the next night. This fucker killed Ty?" 

"Dat's what we're here to find out." Remy put the photograph away again, and leant against the bar once more. "You get a lot o' types in here, oui? You work in a place like dis long enough, you get a feel fo' dem all, an' you can pick out de newbies, or de ones who've been in de game a long time, eh?" 

"Sure." Clayton nodded. Some of the tension left his body as he leant in towards Remy again, and Pietro found himself resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. "It's all in the body language. Why?" 

"What was yo' impression o' Adam?" Clayton raised his eyebrows and exhaled a breath as he thought hard. 

"Well… he was pretty new to things, I guess? I don't think he'd been in a bar like this before. Whenever Ty had to see to a customer, he'd stare around him with this sorta excited fascination, y'know?" Clayton played with his collar again, and slowly ran his tongue across his lips in a motion that begged people to watch. "I'd say he was either newly out, or experimenting." 

"What 'bout in de closet?" When Clayton paused and then nodded, Remy grinned. "You got a good eye, monsieur." 

"It comes in handy." Whether it was the compliment or the French, Clayton's body language shifted in such an obvious way that Pietro actually turned his attention away. "If there's anything I can do, Lieutenant…" 

"Why don' you take dis card," Remy produced his card, and slid it across the bar, flashing him a charming grin, "and if you t'ink o' anyt'in', jus' call." 

"Lieutenant." Pietro cut in sharply. "We have another lead to follow, and he'll be starting work very soon." They had plenty of time to get to the hotel before the bartender started his shift, and Pietro knew Remy would know that – but the flirting was getting under his skin and he wasn't entirely sure why. All he knew was that it had to stop, and soon. 

"Ah, oui." He turned that charming smile on Pietro, and Clayton smirked. "O' course, Detective." Pietro held back a shiver at the way Remy had purred the word 'detective', and tried not to think too much about how his voice would sound purring other words, too. "T'ank you fo' you time, monsieur. Sorry fo' yo' loss." 

"Just find that bastard and make him pay, Lieutenant." Clayton straightened up, and cast a glance over the two of them. "You know, you two make a pretty handsome couple, if you don't mind me saying." Pietro tensed, and felt a flush creeping up the back of his neck. 

"We're not a couple." He said through gritted teeth. "Lieutenant." He turned on his heel and made his way towards the door, hoping Remy would follow him. What had possessed that idiot to make a comment like that? They weren't a couple. They didn't even _act_ like a couple. Remy watched him storm off with a grin, and he turned back to Clayton – who looked a touch surprised. 

"We do, don' we?" He murmured slyly, dropping a wink in for extra effect. Clayton laughed, and Remy gave him a lazy salute before he pushed away from the bar and went after Pietro. 

He hadn't missed the faintest hint of envy in Pietro's voice when he'd reminded him of their other lead, and clearly Clayton hadn't either. He wasn't sure what had brought it on – was it envy that the pretty bartender had favoured him, or was it envy that he was flirting with the pretty bartender? He'd definitely have to find out which – and he knew a few ways he could test it out. Pietro was waiting by the car when he finally caught up, a scowl on his handsome face. 

"A harmless comment, Pietro. Don' let it trouble you." He waved him off, circling around to his door. Pietro whirled around, a flash of annoyance in his eyes. 

"What was that? In there?" He demanded. "We are on the job, Lieutenant, and you were flirting with a witness, and a friend of our victim." 

"Whoa, whoa." Remy held up both hands, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "What crawled up yo' ass an' died, Detective? Jus' a lil' harmless flirting – which, by de way, was initiated by de witness himself. Is it against de law to make a witness comfo'table durin' an interview?" 

"No. There's no _law_ against it, but that isn't the point." Pietro dragged his fingers through his hair, loosening it very slightly from its slicked-back style. "We don't flirt with witnesses here." 

"You migh' want to take dat stick out o' yo' ass befo' you sit down." Remy murmured, his tone a little icy. "Ot'erwise it migh' be uncomfo'table." Leaving it at that, he opened his door, and climbed into the car. Pietro wanted to kick something, or throw something, anything to vent his frustration, but he got control of it and simply joined Remy in the car. 

The atmosphere was frosty on the ride to the hotel, and the silence was stifling, but Pietro didn't know what he could say. He realised now that snapping at his superior probably wasn't the best thing to do – and as the silence dragged on as they stepped once again into the hotel, he began to worry that it would come back to bite him in the ass. Putting a rift between them wasn't going to help his career, and if his father caught wind of it… well, that didn't bear thinking about. 

The hotel bartender couldn't tell them anything they didn't already know, and so when they climbed back into the car Remy suggested they head back to the station and check in with Detective Lee before calling it a day. There was nothing more they could do until they located Adam, and they'd work better if they were well-rested. Pietro said nothing, still worried that he'd fucked up, and merely nodded in agreement as Remy turned in the direction of the station. 

Jubilee had nothing for them, and so Remy sent her home and told her to be back bright and early the next day, and he'd have more for her to do. Pietro sat down at his desk, sending his report to his home computer to work on once he got back, and prepared to shut down for the day. As his computer shut down and he stood to grab his jacket, his eyes shifted to the open office door, and he sighed. He had to say something. He wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't put this to rest. 

He stood and crossed to the office, and although Remy had told them his door was always open to them, he found himself lifting a hand to knock very quietly. Remy was sat behind his desk, sunglasses and coat removed, and he'd rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows – revealing a twisting, intricate sleeve tattoo up his left forearm. Pietro let his eyes study the design for a moment, lifting them when Remy beckoned him in. 

"Lieutenant, I…" He began, feeling his mouth dry up when Remy's eyes fixed on his. What was it about this man that had him acting so nervous? "I wanted to apologise for my outburst earlier. It was out of line." When Remy said nothing, he shifted uncomfortably, and dragged a hand through his hair. "It wasn't my place to speak to a superior like that, and I-," 

"Pietro." He broke off at the smooth murmur of his name, and blinked. Remy was smiling. "Remy ain' gon' slap at you fo' havin' an opinion, an' expressin' it." He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "You were on edge, a blind man could see dat. Remy ain' gon' ask why, but he gets it. So you can stop worryin' dat Remy's gon' put you on desk duty fo' a mont' jus' fo' speakin' yo' mind, an' you can go home." Pietro must have looked as relieved as he felt, because Remy grinned. "You need to relax, Detective. T'ings are gon' be different 'round here." 

"Yeah no shit." Pietro murmured, and then realised he'd spoken out loud. Luckily, Remy laughed. "Uh. I should… get going. Um. Goodnight, Lieutenant." Remy lifted a hand and waved him off. 

"Go on, get de hell out o' Remy's office." He said with another grin. "Sleep tight now, Detective." He called after him as Pietro turned and strode away. He smiled to himself, and turned his attention back to his computer – he had Pietro's case history up on the screen, and it was impressive. He knew he could easily go through his entire file to learn more about him, but he didn't want to. He liked to learn his team through interaction, and through their case history. 

Pietro was a damn good cop, that much was clear. He just needed to find out what made him tick, and yes, he was really looking forward to finding out what was beneath that sharp suit one way or another. 

\-- 

There were lights on when Pietro got home, which could be considered a rare occurrence. Already tense again, he opened the door, and stepped into the house he shared with his father. He could have easily moved into his own place years ago, but he'd put it off for a number of reasons, one of which came down to it being easier this way. He usually got home before his father, unless a case had him working late, and so it still felt strange to get home to find him waiting. 

"You caught a case this morning." Erik Lensherr sat in his favourite chair, the news on TV and a newspaper folded on the arm. Pietro took off his coat and hung it up, and walked through to him. 

"That's right. Seems like a simple case, homicide by strangulation. Suspect's in the wind, but we'll find him." He took a seat on the sofa, letting his eyes fix on the TV as the local reports ran through on the screen. 

"Logan tells me the new Lieutenant started today." Erik turned his attention to his son, noting the tense set of his shoulders. "Thoughts?" 

"He's a good cop." There was no hesitation, which surprised Pietro more than it surprised Erik, though neither of them let it show. "He's… different, but he's good." Pietro shrugged, forcing himself to be casual – but not too casual. He couldn't risk showing anything of the other feelings he had regarding the new Lieutenant. 

"Logan doesn't have much of an opinion on him." Erik reached for the TV remote, and switched it off. Pietro couldn't stop himself from smirking. 

"Logan doesn't have much of an opinion on anything." He pointed out. Erik actually smiled at that. Logan was a long-term family friend, having met Erik at college and gone into the Academy with him at the same time. He was, in fact, Pietro's godfather. 

"I hope you don't talk like that at work, Pietro. He's your superior." Pietro held back the urge to roll his eyes. Trust his father to bring it back to work. 

"Of course not, father." Erik studied him for a moment, and then rose from the chair. 

"I expect you haven't eaten yet. I'll fix us both something, and then I have work to see to." He was gone before Pietro could stop him. He sat back with a groan, and then he pushed himself up again and made for the stairs – he had to get out of this suit, and into something more comfortable. 

On his way to his bedroom he passed the wall of family photos, and he paused to smile at one of himself and his two sisters, taken only the year before. He'd have to call Wanda up tomorrow if he didn't get back too late, and tell her about his new Lieutenant. 

Both Wanda and Lorna were incredibly successful in their chosen professions, and in their personal lives, too – Wanda was a paediatric nurse working in a specialised private hospital, already at the top of her field, happily married with two boys who were both already showing promise at school, and Lorna was a famous journalist with a reputation for writing high-profile pieces and not being afraid to share her sometimes unpopular opinions, and in a very promising long-term relationship with a sportsman who was already making his mark in the public eye. 

And here he was, living at home, a failed marriage under his belt and still only a Detective in Homicide. It didn't matter that he'd earned his Detective's shield rather quickly because he was so good at his job, or that he had one of the highest success rates with cases. Next to his sisters, he looked like a total failure – something his father never let him forget, even if he wasn't always aware he was doing it. 

It would make things even worse if his father found out it wasn't just women who pushed his buttons. So he kept it a secret, and rarely indulged in any exploits with men, just to be on the safe side. It was difficult, but that's the way it had to be. 

Which is why he _really_ had to stop thinking about Remy LeBeau. 

\--

The door to Remy's office was closed when Pietro got in the next morning, though he wasn't exactly surprised. Jubilee was already perched on her desk as she spoke on the phone to someone, and she held up a finger to him as he approached. Leaving her to it for now, he slumped behind his desk, and booted up the computer. He'd finished off his report last night and all he needed to do now was send it off, so he might as well get that done whilst he waited. 

"So that was an employee over at JFK." Jubilee told him as she replaced the phone receiver and hopped down off her desk. "She caught the news this morning, saw the APB on Adam Richards. Apparently she spoke to him yesterday morning, around eleven." 

"Yeah?" Pietro perked up. "Did he buy a ticket, or what?" 

"Not exactly. Apparently he was asking if he could exchange his ticket for an earlier flight. Said he needed to get home quick due to an emergency, but there were no flights yesterday that had any space." She studied the notes she'd made. "He looked panicked, she told me, and he had no luggage which she found a little suspicious. She asked if he'd like her to look up flights for today, but he just turned and left. She thought he might kick up a fuss so she kept her eye on him as he went, ready to call security, but he just went straight for the exit." 

"So he tried to run on home." Pietro grinned. "Nice work, Jubes. Thanks." 

"Happy to help." She grinned back at him. "Where is our handsome Lieutenant this morning?" 

"I don't know, but he's going to be here soon." Pietro reached for his phone, calling up Remy's contact details on the computer at the same time. He hadn't had time the day before to program the number into his phone, but it was something he'd need to do soon – especially if he was going to be working cases with him like this. He'd only just typed the number into his phone when the elevator opened, and the man in question stepped out. 

"Mornin', mes amis." He called out brightly, lifting a bright pink cardboard box in the air as he approached. "A breakfast o' pure sugar fo' de hardworkin' cops." He set it down, and laughed as a couple of cops pounced, eager to get at the doughnuts it concealed. "Nice ta know New York cops follow de stereotype as much as New Orleans cops do." Pietro saved the number in his phone and slid it back into his pocket, trying not to pay attention to the way Remy's accent made 'New Orleans' sound more like 'Nawlins', and the fact he found it endearing. So much for not thinking about him. 

"Lieutenant." He stood to get his attention, and noticed that Remy held something else in his other hand – a cardboard carrier containing two Styrofoam cups. 

"Remy don' know how you take yo' coffee, so he jus' went wit' plain an' black like his own." He took one of the cups out of the carrier and handed it over. "If you don' want it, you don' have to force it down. Remy won' be offended." 

"You brought me coffee?" Pietro blinked, taking the cup from him. 

"Oui. Dat a problem, Detective?" When Pietro shook his head, too stunned by the gesture to respond properly. "Good. Now, was dere somet'in' you wanted to say?" 

"Oh. Yes." He snapped himself out of his daze. "Jubilee had a call from an employee at JFK." He paused as Jubilee grabbed her notes and handed it to him. "Seems Adam tried to catch a flight yesterday." 

"Hasn't been seen since?" Remy sighed. "Right, well… good work, Detective." He flashed a grin at Jubilee. "Pietro, get yo' coat. We're gon' go talk to dis lady face-to-face, an' double-check de security cameras to get an idea o' where he might have gone. Could be he got into a cab." 

"He had to go somewhere last night." Pietro agreed. "But he could have hitched a ride out of town. He could be anywhere." 

"Nah," Remy shook his head, "he left his hotel room wit' not'in' but his phone an' probably his wallet. Remy went t'rough de contents o' de room dat CSI bagged an' tagged fo' us – everyt'in' else got left behind. Didn' even pick up his passport." 

"You think he'll try and come back for it?" Pietro frowned. 

"Maybe. But unless he's a moron, he knows dat his stuff will be in our possession." Remy shrugged. "Alrigh', Detective Lee, stick wit' de phones, an' chase up any info'mation you get. Run de cab companies that regularly pick up at de airport, see if dey picked up anyone around de time Adam was seen at de airport."

"On it." She nodded, dropping behind her desk to start the run of cab companies. 

"Pietro, let's go see a lady." Pietro snagged his jacket and pulled it on before joining Remy in the elevator. He took a sip of the coffee Remy had brought him, and only just held back the sigh of pleasure as the hot liquid caffeine hit him straight away. Remy couldn't have known he preferred his coffee black and unsweetened, and he'd said as much, but he was so glad he'd made that guess. "Long night?" 

"No longer than usual." Pietro didn't know how he should feel at the odd sense of relief that came over him, but he put it down to residual nerves after his outburst the evening before. That was clearly it – he was just glad that Remy was back to the light, casual atmosphere from before. "You stayed late?" 

"Suppose so." Remy shrugged one shoulder, stepping out of the elevator into onto the garage level. "Jus' finishin' up de initial report fo' Captain Howlett, goin' over a few t'ings." Pietro climbed into the car with him, trying not to think that he could probably get used to driving around in this flashy sports car on a regular basis. Remy had only picked him at random for this case. It wasn't going to be a common occurrence. "Mostly gettin' used to de system you guys work wit' here." 

"Is it different to what you're used to, then?" Pietro's hands immediately clutched at the sides of his seat as Remy gunned the car out of the garage and onto the street, turning in the vague direction of JFK. 

"Not so much, but it's still nice ta be familiar wit' it." Even with the morning traffic of everyone trying to get to work at the same time, they got to JFK in about half the time Pietro would have expected – almost entirely due to Remy's driving, of course. For someone who was new to the city, he certainly knew his way around. 

He pulled up outside the airport and led the way inside, pulling out the information Jubilee had given him to remind himself of the name of the woman they were here to see. Pietro was about to head towards the right desk when Remy stopped and caught his arm. 

"Son o' a bitch." He hissed, his eyes fixed on something in the crowd of people milling about inside. "Dere he is." Pietro followed his gaze – and spotted Adam Richards pushing his way through the people. Remy reached around to his hip and drew out his police issue handgun, and he was running by the time Pietro followed suit. "Police!" He called out, drawing the attention of everyone in the immediate vicinity, including Adam. Pietro watched the colour drain from his face, and then he turned and began to run. "Oh no you don', you lil' bastard." Remy growled, pushing himself to move faster – and then he leapt forward and caught Adam around the waist, full-body tackling him to the ground. 

They landed hard on the tiled floor, Adam grunting as the wind was knocked clean out of him, but Remy didn't waste any time. He pushed up, keeping a hand on Adam's back just in case he got any ideas of running again, and he holstered his weapon so he could reach for his handcuffs. When Pietro handed his to him, Remy glanced up and flashed him a brief smile before he locked them around Adam's wrists. 

"Adam Richards, yo' under arrest fo' de murder o' Tyler King. You have de righ' to remain silent. Anyt'in' you say or do can an' will be used against you in a court o' law." The restraints firmly locked in place, Remy straightened up and began to hoist Adam to his feet. "You have de righ' to consult an attorney befo' speaking to de police an' to have an attorney present durin' questionin' now or in de future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you befo' any questionin', if you wish." Pietro stepped away to call for a black-and-white to transport Adam to the station, and gave Remy a nod to signal that one was on the way. "Did you t'ink you were jus' gon' walk away from dis, Adam, eh?" 

"It's not what you think!" Adam protested, even as Remy began marching him towards the exit as Pietro moved along the people who had stopped to watch. 

"Oh, righ', o' course. Well why don' we head down to de station an' you can tell us all 'bout it." Remy kept a firm hold on him as they waited for the black-and-white to turn up, and then he bundled him into the back and sent him on his way. Pietro stepped up beside him as the police car drove off back to the station, and Remy sighed. "Got de bastard." 

"That was a nice tackle, sir." Pietro murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice. Remy turned to him with a grin. 

"Saw de opportunity, an' took it." He shrugged casually. "Didn' t'ink he'd be stupid enough to come back here again." 

"Guess we're lucky that he did. Saves us some time." He glanced over at him when Remy made no move to head to the car. 

"Very true." Remy nodded. "C'mon. We're gon' make a couple o' stops befo' we head back fo' interview." 

"We're not going straight there?" Pietro asked, surprised, as Remy finally walked over to where he'd parked the car. 

"Non. We're gon' let him sit an' stew fo' an hour or two, let him sweat." Remy slipped behind the wheel, and dragged his fingers through his hair with a sigh. "An' while he waits, we're gon' drop by a grievin' mot'er an' we're gon' tell her dat we got de son o' a bitch who killed her boy." Pietro blinked, a little surprised. 

"Shouldn't we wait until we have him charged and a confession on record?" Remy didn't say anything for a moment, focusing on the road. 

"Dis bastard ain' gettin' away. Dere were no ot'er fingerprints in de room dat didn' match hotel staff, de victim, or our suspect. He did it, Pietro, an' he's goin' down fo' it." He pulled out his phone, and dialled Jubilee's number, putting it on loudspeaker as he navigated the traffic. Pietro wanted to point out that he technically shouldn't be using his phone whilst driving, but something told him that wouldn't go down well right now. "Detective Lee." He called brightly when she answered. "How good are you wit' field work?" 

_"I live for it, Lieutenant."_  

"Good. Yo' gon' round up a team, get de CSIs involved, an' yo' gon' search every trash can an' dumpster in de immediate vicinity o' de hotel. Yo' lookin' fo' a bat'robe, white – if you need to, ask de hotel staff fo' one to use fo' comparison. You'll want one fo' de fibres fo' confirmation anyway." 

_"Got it. On it, Lieutenant."_ Remy ended the call, and dropped his phone back into his pocket. 

"He dumped de robe, an' de belt he used to strangle Tyler." He murmured, mostly to himself. "It don' matter if it was an accidental deat' to start wit'. He dumped de murder weapon, an' he tried to run. Dat's not gon' help him in court." 

"Bet he was scared." Pietro added. "More scared about being caught with a man than being caught with a dead body." 

"Well, dat's gon' bite him in de ass." He dragged his fingers through his hair again as they waited for lights to change. "She begged Remy to take it back." Pietro blinked, and turned to look at him. "Tyler's mot'er. She begged Remy to take it back an' tell her Tyler wasn' dead. He was happy, excited, fo' his date wit' de guy he was clearly totally into. An' den he ends up dead de same nigh'." 

"You can't let it get to you." Pietro put in gently. Remy ripped off his sunglasses, his eyes narrowed into a furious glare, and he floored the gas pedal the second the lights changed. 

"If anyone ever tells you dat you can' do de job if you can' keep yo' distance, you tell dem to go fuck demselves, Pietro." Remy hissed out as he took a corner at a sickeningly fast pace. "Tyler belongs to Remy now. He belonged to Remy de second we walked in dat door, an' Remy is gon' make sure he gets taken care o'." 

Pietro fell silent for the rest of the trip, but inside he was smiling. Surprisingly, Remy was exactly his kind of cop.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys close their case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: I'm making the actual police side of things as accurate as I can, but considering I'm not a cop nor have ready access to one I can interrogate for details, obviously there might be things not entirely accurate. Plus Remy is supposed to be a cop who doesn't particularly stick to the book 100%.

Pietro would never forget the side of Remy he saw when Tyler's mother opened the door to them. 

He sat in the car as Remy drove them back to the station, struggling to keep himself from glancing over and studying him every few minutes. He'd delivered the bad news to many people over the course of his career in Homicide, and he'd taken the time to let them know the person who killed their loved one was behind bars. He knew how difficult it was, and he hated that part of the job, but he got it done and he kept himself as distant as he could without being cold. 

Remy didn't distance himself. 

When Tyler's mother had swayed on her feet, Remy had held out his arms and she'd fallen into them gratefully, thanking him for something she didn't name – but Pietro knew she was thanking him for standing for her son, for not letting his killer get away. He'd wanted to speak up and mention that though it was highly unlikely he'd get away, they still hadn't charged him with anything or had a confession, but he had more heart than that. The relief he'd seen in her eyes when Remy had told her they'd caught him had put a stop to any such thought in his mind. 

Remy had held her even as she broke down into sobs, he'd held her and promised that he'd see to it personally that the man who took away her baby boy would get the justice he deserved, that he'd be locked away for the rest of his life. He'd given her his card, and told her to call if she needed anything – and that he could organise a grief counsellor if she so wished. 

He maintained straight eye-contact with her the whole time. He'd deliberately left his sunglasses in the car. 

They were back on his face now, and Pietro understood why. He saw it in the tight set of his jaw, in the firm grip his hands had on the wheel as the car weaved in and out of traffic. The anger from earlier had cooled, replaced with something he wanted to hide. Pietro had seen it before – often in the mirror. 

"Who did you lose?" He wanted to bite his tongue, but he couldn't take it back. Besides, if Remy didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't, and Pietro wouldn't push it. 

"Lil' brot'er." Remy murmured, keeping his gaze fixed steadily ahead, but his hands tightened further around the wheel. "An' de police failed him." He took a corner rather sharply, and a car horn sounded behind them. "Is it dat obvious?" 

"No." Pietro shook his head, and attempted a comforting smile. "I just…" _I know what grief looks like, because I lost someone too_. "I'm good at reading people." He wasn't quite ready to share that part of himself with someone he'd only known a day, even if it was common ground of sorts. "It was good, what you did. Most cops would just give her the news and go." 

"Remy ain' like most cops." They weren't far from the station, and so he slowed down. He had to get control of himself before he walked into Interview with Adam. Pietro sensed the shift in atmosphere, and decided to change the subject. 

"How are we going to go at Adam?" Remy pulled into the station garage, and parked up in the spot now marked with his name. 

"Remy's sure yo' familiar wit' de old-fashioned 'good cop bad cop' routine?" He flashed a grin in Pietro's direction, and the detective rolled his eyes.

"Let me guess. I'm good cop?" 

"O' course." Remy laughed. "Remy's good at bad cop." Pietro resisted the urge to roll his eyes again, and climbed out of the car. When Remy didn't follow he paused, and bent to peer inside. "You go on ahead. Remy'll catch up." Pietro shrugged, and left him to it. He knew better than to push. 

Remy watched Pietro head towards the elevator, and he sat back in his seat with a sigh, tugging the glasses from his face. He'd surprised himself when he'd actually given Pietro an answer regarding his brother – that was usually saved for friends, and only after he knew he could trust them. It was a touchy subject for him, definitely not something he liked to talk about, but Pietro seemed to understand, even if he wasn't telling him everything. 

But he had to push it all aside for now. His suspect was waiting, and he'd made a promise to a grieving mother that he had no intention of breaking. He checked himself in the rearview mirror, swept his fingers through his hair, and glanced down at the sunglasses he gripped in one hand. 

Screw the sunglasses. 

He tucked them into a pocket instead, and then climbed out of the car to follow Pietro. The eyes would probably help to intimidate Adam, if nothing else, and it was about time the rest of his team saw them if he was going to be sticking around here. Pietro was waiting for him when he reached Homicide – he was sat at his desk, another male detective lurking nearby. From the look on Pietro's face, he wasn't enjoying the other cop's company. 

"Maximoff." He called sharply – the other cop turned with a jolt, and Pietro actually looked relieved to see him. Definitely wasn't enjoying having that other cop hovering at his shoulder. "Time to get dat confession." Pietro nodded and grabbed the file before he pushed up from his desk, sending a quick glare in the direction of his colleague. If Remy hadn't been watching closely, he probably would have missed it. "Everyt'in' alright, Detective?" He asked when Pietro reached him. 

"Everything is fine, sir." They walked together to the interview room where Adam had been waiting. "Adam's lawyered up. They're in Interview 2." Pietro told him. "So, I'm the compassionate one, I just want to help him – it was an accident, he didn't mean to kill him, I'm sure we can all work this out." The swift conversation change told Remy that there was definitely something between the two men, but he'd look into that another time. "Right?" 

"Oui. An' Remy is de asshole who gets in his face." He grinned, hesitating outside of the door. "Ready, Detective?" When Pietro nodded, the grin on Remy's face disappeared, replaced with a scowl and a hard look in his eyes. He took the file from Pietro's hands, and then he threw open the door for extra impact, and strode in looking ready to kick someone's ass. Pietro followed after a beat, keeping his movements slower and softer, quietly closing the door behind them. "LeBeau, Lieutenant Remy, an' Maximoff, Detective Pietro, entering interview wit' Adam Richards regarding de murder o' Tyler King." 

"My client has been kept waiting for over an hour-," the lawyer began, rising from his chair. Adam sat quietly beside him, hands twisted together on the table, looking absolutely terrified. Remy dropped the file onto the table with enough force to have the sharp slap cut the lawyer off before he could finish. 

"Yo' client has been arrested on suspicion o' murder." Remy snapped out, leaning both hands on the table so he could get right in the lawyer's face. "By default we are allowed to hold him fo' t'irty-six hours. So why don' you sit back down, an' start advising yo' client to tell us de trut', eh?" He straightened up when the lawyer sank back into his seat, and then he turned his gaze on Adam. "Detective, would you read Mr Richards his rights fo' de record?" 

"Yes, sir." He threw in an apologetic look in their direction for added measure, and then recited the Miranda warning. 

"Do you understand yo' rights an' obligations, Mr Richards?" Adam glanced nervously at his lawyer, who gave him a nod. 

"Yes." His voice was small and nervous, and he fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair.

"You have opted to have legal representation." Now Remy's gaze shifted to the lawyer. "Speak yo' name fo' de record." 

"Mr Jeremy Ford, legal representative of Ford and-," 

"Jus' de name will do." His attention shifted back to Adam. "Mr Richards. What brings you to New York?" Another glance at the lawyer, another nod. 

"I'm on vacation." He told him, glancing up to meet his eyes – and then he quickly looked away. Remy nodded, rocking back onto his heels as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Not a bad location for a lil' trip away from home, eh?" His eyes narrowed a little, fixed on Adam. "Especially if dere's someone here jus' eager to meet you." He stepped up to the table again, leaning down until his eyes were level with Adam's. "Someone you were hidin' from everyone back home." 

"Lieutenant, I-," Remy held up a hand to shut the lawyer up. 

"Were you, or were you not, here to visit Tyler King, Adam?" He flipped open the file, and dropped Tyler's photograph onto the table in front of him. "We have copies o' de emails you were sendin' each ot'er – you even made a brand new email address jus' to talk to him, didn' you? Afraid someone would find out yo' gay, Adam? Were you ashamed?" Knowing his role, Pietro stepped forward. 

"Lieutenant." He put a hand on Remy's arm, and Remy rolled his eyes and turned away. Pietro put on his most charming smile, and slowly slid into the seat opposite Adam. "I understand how difficult this must be, but it's important you tell us everything. It's still not easy to be homosexual in this country. A lot of people still hide it from those around them." 

"I'm not!" Adam blurted out, pointedly not looking at the photograph of Tyler. "I mean… I like women, I just… I'm not…" He sighed, and dragged a hand through his hair. "Only sometimes. Yeah, we talked through email. It was fun, and he's a great guy, so…" 

"So you decided to meet in person, and see where it went." Pietro smiled again. 

"Yeah, yeah." Adam nodded. "It was just for a few days. I didn't really expect much but we just sorta… clicked." He wet his lips, and gave another glance in his lawyer's direction. 

"Oh, sure seems dat way." Remy cut in again, finding the stills from the hotel security cameras in the file, and spreading them out over the table. "You two clicked enough to arrange a late night party in yo' hotel room." He lined them up, showing Adam returning, and then Tyler entering the hotel a few minutes later. "De same hotel room Tyler was found dead in de next mornin'." He leant across the table, getting right in Adam's face. "What happened, Adam? Didn' he suck yo' dick well enough fo' you? You get angry when he didn' swallow?" 

"Lieutenant, that question is inappropriate and-," 

"Dat question is entirely appropriate." Remy snapped. "Cause we got a dead man in yo' client's hotel room who was strangled shortly after engaging in oral sex – an' Remy's sure dat if we tested yo' client's DNA, we'd find a match. In fact, pretty certain dat's what our techs are doin' righ' now." 

"Whether or not my client engaged in oral sex with the victim has no relevance to-," 

"Don' you dare sit dere an' tell Remy dat it has no relevance to de case. A man is dead, monsieur, wit' yo' client's semen in his mout' an' t'roat. We have yo' client on camera letting de victim into his hotel room, an' forensic evidence to prove dat instead o' raisin' de alarm or callin' fo' help, he ran from de scene o' de crime via de fire escape." He flipped through the file, and brought out more stills, slapping them on top of the others already spread on the table. "Instead o' going to de police, he tried to leave de city only hours after Tyler was cold, an' was caught in anot'er attempt to flee." When the lawyer said nothing, Remy turned back to Adam. "So what was it, Adam? Was it yo' plan all along? Or did you jus' snap 'cause de lil' whore wouldn' bend over fo' you?" 

"Lieutenant, I don't think that's fair." Pietro stepped in, still playing his role of 'good cop'. "Adam, we're just trying to work out what happened. Can I get you anything, some water perhaps?" When Adam nodded, he rose and fetched a cup of water from the dispenser in the corner of the room. "Why don't you tell us what happened in the hotel room?" 

"I…" 

"Mr Richards, I am advising you to remain silent." The lawyer interrupted. "Do you have any evidence that it was my client who strangled your victim?" Remy actually laughed – a short, harsh sound. 

"Yo' really gon' try an' play dat card, eh?" He pulled out the crime scene photos, and slapped them down under Adam's nose. "Yo' client was de only one seen enterin' dat room, an' de only fingerprints in de room match de victim, de hotel staff whose whereabouts during de time o' de murder have already been verified, an' yo' client." He tapped the photograph of Tyler. "Look at him, Adam. Look at de man you killed." 

"Lieutenant!" Pietro hurriedly scooped the photos up and turned them facedown on the table. "Mr Ford, we're just trying to get the facts of what happened that night. All the evidence points to your client." They turned as someone knocked on the door – Jubilee stood on the other side, and beckoned to Remy. 

"One moment." He murmured, crossing to the door. "LeBeau, Lieutenant Remy, leaving interview." He said for the record, and then he opened the door and stepped out. "You got it?" Jubilee nodded. 

"CSI found it tossed in a dumpster a block from the hotel. We've got visual confirmation from both the hotel manager and two members of staff that it's one of theirs, and it matches the fibres found in the bathroom and those taken from a similar robe from their stores." She told him, handing him the lab results – and then she held up a white belt in an evidence bag. "The lab managed to find DNA evidence on the belt – it matches the suspect's, and the victim's. Jean confirms that it fits the bruising on the victim's throat." He took the evidence bag from her, and smiled. _Gotcha, ya lil' bastard_. "We've also got his fingerprints all over the dumpster." 

"Good work, Detective Lee." He put a hand on her shoulder and flashed her a winning smile. "You jus' helped nail dis guy into a jail cell fo' de rest o' his life." 

"Just doing my job, boss." She grinned back at him. "And hey, just call me Jubilee. Everyone does." 

"T'ank you, Jubilee." He accepted the other documents she handed to him, and then he stepped back into the room. "LeBeau, Lieutenant Remy, re-entering interview." 

"Lieutenant, the evidence you have against my client is circumstantial-," 

"You can spew dat shit fo' us all day, monsieur, but it ain' gon' make it true." He tossed the evidence bag down in front of Adam, and watched his eyes widen. "Look familiar, Adam? It should, 'cause it's got yo' DNA all over it." 

"A belt from a robe taken from his room? Of course it would have his DNA on it." The lawyer began, but Remy ignored him. 

"Oh, but it wasn' taken from de room, was it Adam? Non, see, our lil' team o' forensic experts found dis in a dumpster 'bout a block away from de hotel, where you tossed it after escapin' t'rough de window after you murdered Tyler King." 

"No!" Adam protested, ignoring the hand his lawyer put on his arm to silence him. 

"Non? You didn' dump it or you didn' kill him? 'Cause we got yo' fingerprints all over de dumpster, an' our clever lil' techs can confirm dat dis is de object used to strangle Tyler to deat'." Remy flipped the crime scene photographs over again, and shoved them right under Adam's nose. "Did he say somet'in' to piss you off, Adam? Maybe he t'reatened to out you, maybe tried to blackmail you? A man like you, straight an' narrow to everyone back home, ashamed o' who you are... why else would you be in de closet, eh?" 

"It's not always that simple, Lieutenant." Pietro put in, his voice a touch strained. 

"Did he wait until you invited him in befo' he made his t'reats? Or maybe he waited until after he'd sucked yo' cock. Did he ask to film it, Adam? Did he have photographs o' de two o' you doin' de nasty?" Remy slammed his hands onto the table, and Adam jumped, spilling some water from the cup he still clutched in one hand. "Maybe you went along wit' it, wonderin' how you'd get rid o' him. Was it yo' idea to add a lil' asphyxiation to de sex games, or was it a kink o' his? Bet you t'ought yo' luck had changed, eh? Just squeeze a lil' too tight, jus' keep squeezin' an' den you won' have to worry 'bout a damn t'ing, eh?" 

"It wasn't like that!" Adam shook his head, trying to look away from the photos. Jeremy frowned, and turned to him. 

"Mr Richards, I advise you to-," 

"Oh fuck your advice!" Adam snapped. "I can't fucking do this anymore, okay? Just get the hell out of here." 

"Mr Richards, are you dismissing your legal representative at this time?" Pietro asked as Remy straightened up, trying not to look smug. 

"Yes. Yeah, I am." 

"You're making a mistake, Mr Richards." Jeremy told him as he stood. "I will be outside." As he left, Pietro took a moment to take a breath. 

"Mr Jeremy Ford, legal representative to Mr Adam Richards, dismissed and leaving interview." He stated for the record, and then he turned back to Adam. "Why don't you tell us what happened?" 

"It… it was an accident, I swear!" His hands shook as he lifted the cup of water to take a drink, and Pietro reached out to steady them for him. He told himself it was just the role he had to play, but he did feel an odd sense of sympathy for him – he knew what it was like to have to hide who you were. "Yeah, I'm in the closet. I have to be. My family, my friends… they wouldn't understand. I'm not ashamed." He lifted his eyes to meet Remy's. "I'm not. Yes, I was hiding Ty from people, but… I wasn't ashamed of him. He is… was… a great guy. Really sweet." He took another drink, and looked away from the photos. Pietro slid them across the table out of his line of sight. "I talked to a few guys from that site. It wasn't supposed to be anything serious – I'd just flirt, and I did a couple of video chats with them and we'd… well…" He shifted uncomfortably. 

"You'd jack off fo' each ot'er." Remy offered, and Adam actually blushed a little. 

"Just a couple of times." He admitted. "But Ty was different. He's the first one I've met up with, and… like I said, we just clicked. I haven't been on a date that good for years, and yeah… we arranged for him to come by the hotel that night. He wanted to walk in with me, but he was really understanding when I said I couldn't risk it, not yet." 

"Oh yeah, bet he was totally understandin'." Remy rolled his eyes, and Pietro sent him a glare that took him a little by surprise. 

"He understood that it's not easy for some people to be out and open about their sexuality." He said to Adam, but Remy got the feeling the words were meant for him. "So he came by after you'd already gone up. The receptionist on the desk confirmed that you'd asked for him to be sent up to your room, and we have it all on camera." 

"Yeah, yeah, he came up a little while after I got in. I sorta tidied the place up a bit while I waited – put away any dirty clothes, y'know? Then I sorta freshened myself up." He took another drink, and then set the cup down. "It wasn't my first time with a guy, but it felt different with him. He was really gentle, sorta… tender." 

"He was in love." Adam looked up at Remy in surprise. 

"I… I guess so…" There was a faint shine in his eyes that suggested he was on the edge of tears. "He didn't try and blackmail me, or anything like that. He didn't care that I was in the closet. It never even came up when he was inside. And yeah… he… we engaged in… oral sex. His idea, I didn't force him or anything." He tugged at his collar, and shifted in his seat. "I told him that I wanted to do something for him, and that's… that's when he asked if I'd indulge a little fetish of his." 

"He asked you to strangle him?" Pietro prompted, and Adam nodded. 

"Yeah. Just a little, he said, 'cause it helps him get off. He liked the thrill, the adrenaline rush. I've never done anything like that, but I said I'd give it a go." He swallowed thickly. "So he was on the bed, and I was straddling him and I put my hands around his neck, but… I was too scared about hurting him." 

"So then what happened?" 

"He said I could use something to help me, if I was too scared about using my hands. He suggested a belt or a tie or something, but I didn't pack any ties and I thought my belt would be too stiff, so…" He sighed, and dragged his hand through his hair again. "I was wearing the bathrobe, because I thought it'd be sexy, y'know? Open the hotel door for him in just the robe… so I pulled the belt from it, and asked if I could use that. It was soft so I thought it wouldn't be too painful or…" 

"So how did it go from a lil' sex game to you squeezin' de last breat' out o' him, eh?" Remy hissed, getting in his face again. "He had a safe word, or a signal, righ'? What, did you jus' ignore it? Did you get a t'rill from it, did you like de power? Did it turn you on, Adam, to have him strugglin' an' gaspin' fo' breat' beneath you like dat?" 

"No!" He shook his head, and glanced at Pietro for help. "I… He didn't… he had a signal, but he never used it, I swear! If he had, I would have stopped straight away. But he didn't use it, so I kept going, and he was sorta… limp. Like, he wasn't moving much. I figured I wasn't doing it right and I didn't want to disappoint him 'cause I really liked him, so…" 

"So you tightened de belt." Remy shook his head slowly, and turned away in disgust. "Did it never occur to you dat he wasn' movin' 'cause you were cuttin' off his air supply? Did you never wonder dat maybe somet'in' wasn' right?" He turned back, letting his disgust show on his face. "You jus' kept on goin' until he was dead, an' den what – you left him? You could have called fo' help, Adam. Even if he couldn' be revived, you could have _tried_!" 

"I was scared! When I realised he was dead I panicked, and… you don't understand, I couldn't be caught with a dead man in my hotel room, not in those circumstances!" 

"Oh, righ', 'cause you can' be gay, eh? How shameful dat would be fo' you." Remy sneered. "So you jus' left him dere, an' you ran away an' tried to flee home wit' jus' de clot'es on yo' back, 'cause god forbid anyone find out you were havin' sex wit' a guy." He leant back into his face. "Yo' a coward, Adam. A coward an' a murderer." That seemed to snap something in Adam, and he broke down into tears. 

"I killed him. Oh god, I actually killed him…" 

"Oui, you killed him." Remy shoved Tyler's photograph under his nose again. "He was so excited fo' dat date. He was happy, an' fallin' in love, an' you abandoned him wit'out a second t'ought fo' him." He turned to Pietro. "Transfer dis coward to a holdin' cell. Remy's sick o' lookin' at his face." He strode to the door and flung it open. "Interview end. Suspect is charged wit' de murder o' Tyler King." 

\-- 

"Lieutenant." Remy looked up and over to his doorway, where Pietro stood. There was a stiff set to his shoulders and his jaw, and Remy could tell he was facing another outburst of opinion from the Detective. "Adam has been transferred to holding." 

"Good." He waited to see if Pietro would make the first move, and when he didn't, he sat back and folded his arms across his chest. "Is dere somet'in' you would like to say, Detective?" 

"You were wrong to call him a coward for hiding his sexuality." _Ah, of course_. 

"Is dat so?" Pietro stepped further into the office, and closed the door. Remy raised his eyebrows, but chose not to say anything. 

"It is cowardly to protect yourself from the judgment of others? Is it cowardly for a boy to hide his homosexuality from a homophobic father, or to protect himself from a dangerous situation? People still kill over this, Lieutenant. How many deaths have you witnessed as a result of homophobia?" He could hear the anger in Pietro's voice, simmering beneath the surface. "Call him a coward for running away, but don't call him a coward for wanting to keep that part of himself a secret. You can't know the situation someone's in. Not everyone can be as open as you are." 

"You know what Remy says to dat?" He leant forward. "Bullshit." He stood, pushing back from the desk. "Why de hell should we have to hide, eh? We have as much right to love whoever we want, have sex wit' whoever we want, as any straight man or woman in dis country. People will kill over dis, oui, but people will kill over fuckin' spilled milk if de mood takes dem." He circled around the desk until he stood in Pietro's personal space, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. "If someone hides who dey are, den dey're not bein' true to demselves, an' dat don' sit righ' wit' Remy. Especially if dey're hidin' fo' de benefit o' people who should love dem an' accept dem no matter what." He stared hard into Pietro's eyes, leaning in just a little more. "So who are you hidin' from, Pietro?" 

"I don't have anything to hide." His voice was steadier than it felt, but he knew Remy would see through the lie. Remy had made him the second they'd walked into that bar, if not sooner. He was close enough for Pietro to smell that aftershave again – the same as before, and god did it smell _fantastic_ – and for him to realise that at some point in his childhood Remy had had freckles. He could see them, a light dusting across his cheeks, faint now though he imagined the sun would bring them out more. He could also see the long length of his lashes, almost coppery in colour – like the hair he had brushed off as simply 'brown' but on closer inspection he now saw the streaks of copper and rust that ran through it. 

He wasn't sure why, but he was noticing other things about Remy that he had previously passed over – like how his skin was what he imagined people called 'sun-kissed', a beautiful tan that told stories of a youth under the Louisiana sun, and how those unusual red irises were more than a solid flat colour, but made up of lots of flecks of varying shades, and how he had the kind of mouth that begged to be kissed, and oh god how he wanted to kiss him… 

"Detective Maximoff." He whirled at the familiar voice, and hurriedly put space between himself and Remy at the sight of his father. "I was told I would find you in here." Remy rocked back on his heels as he studied the man who'd entered his office without knocking. "Lieutenant." 

"You must be de Chief o' Police." He extended a hand to him. "A pleasure to meet you, sir." 

"Commissioner Lensherr." Erik took the hand and shook it, firm and professional. "I apologise for the interruption, but I need to speak with Detective Maximoff." Remy glanced at Pietro who seemed to be looking anywhere but at him, and nodded. 

"O' course. We were jus' going over de case we jus' closed. He's all yours, Commissioner." Pietro was the first out of the room, followed by the Commissioner. Remy watched them go, and couldn't help but wonder what he might have walked in on if he'd been thirty seconds later. 

Smiling to himself, Remy picked up the file for Tyler King, and went to give his report to Captain Howlett. 

\-- 

After reporting to Logan, he took the time to call Tyler's mother and let her know that Adam had been charged and would be facing a life sentence if there was any justice, and then he considered heading home for the night and relaxing with his cats. The rage from earlier still burned inside, and he knew he'd have to let it out somehow otherwise he'd only wake up in a bad mood tomorrow – and that wouldn't be fun for anyone. 

He grabbed his coat and shut down his computer for the day, and decided to let out some of his frustration and anger down in the station firing range. He always felt a lot calmer after he emptied a few rounds into paper targets. The sound of gunfire reached him as soon as he stepped down into the firing range, and curiosity had him following the sound. Clearly someone else had the same idea. 

A smile tugged at his lips when he spotted the familiar shock of white hair beneath the protective noise-cancelling headphones. He left his coat draped over a table and pulled on his own protective gear, and he leant back against the table as he watched Pietro work. There was something off about his stance, and he was dropping one shoulder very slightly. He waited until Pietro finished the round, and then he cleared his throat loud enough to draw his attention through the headphones. 

"Yo' stance is off." He called out as Pietro turned. He saw the tension immediately settle in his shoulders, and he turned away from him again, loading another magazine into his gun. Remy rolled his eyes and moved closer as Pietro took up his stance again, and he reached out with one hand to correct the position of his arm. 

"What are you doing?" Pietro hissed, trying to jerk away from him. 

"Remy told you. Yo' stance is off." He told him, his other arm snaking around Pietro's chest to straighten his posture. The movement also pressed him back against his chest, and Pietro felt heat rising to his cheeks. His body froze as Remy corrected his stance, and he tried not to think about the heat of the firm body behind him or how he could feel Remy's breath against his cheek. "Dere. Dat's much better." Just for something to do, Pietro squeezed the trigger, and watched as a hole ripped right through the middle of the paper target. 

"I'm just off my game. I know how to shoot." He found himself saying, trying to keep his hands from shaking as Remy's fingertips brushed against the back of his wrist. His conversation with his father was still fresh in his mind – he'd come by to talk about the case since he'd heard about the arrest, but he'd been more focused on what he'd walked in on, and making sure that Pietro wasn't disobeying his superior or causing trouble that might reflect badly on his own reputation. At least, that's what Pietro had taken from it. Angry, frustrated and confused about what he was feeling for his superior, he'd come down here to let off some steam – and then Remy had to go and turn up and make him feel like a horny teenager again _. Goddamn southern cop._

"Yo' very on edge today." Remy's hand pressed flat against his chest, the heat from his palm seeping through Pietro's shirt and making his stomach twist itself into knots. He just needed a good one night stand, that was the problem. He hadn't had sex in far too long, and he just needed to get it out of his system. That was it. Not trusting himself with a gun in his hand, he put it down, and reached up to tug the headphones off. He twisted, aiming to step away from Remy and walk around him, but Remy's hold on him was tighter than he expected, and he found himself awkwardly pressed chest-to-chest with him as Remy reached up to pull off his own headphones. "Maybe you should find a way to relax, non?" 

Oh, it was so tempting. He was so close, and his lips were right there – all he'd need to do was close that small gap and he could get that much-needed release. He had visions of tearing that rumpled shirt clean off and having him right here in the firing range, wiping that smug little smile off the damn Cajun's face by reducing him to a moaning, needy mess beneath him… 

But he couldn't. He couldn't let himself have what he so desperately wanted. Seconds before their lips could touch, Pietro shoved him back and ripped the tinted glasses from his face, slamming them down onto the table. 

"I have to go." His voice came out as barely more than a strangled squeak, but he didn't have time to be embarrassed by it. He had to get away, get as far from Remy as he could before he gave in to temptation and risk throwing away everything he'd worked hard for. He grabbed his jacket and bolted for the door, not once looking back. Remy watched him go, surprised and more than a little confused, and then he sighed. 

"Damn." He murmured, picking up the gun Pietro had discarded. "Looks like a romantic night in wit' yo'self, Remy…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A potential partnership in the making, and Remy doesn't take anyone's shit.

"So, is he single?" Pietro turned away from his screen, and glanced up at Jubilee. The morning had been pretty slow, filled with paperwork and reports, of which he had many to write. The King case, although only taking up two days of his time, had set him back in his routine of paperwork, so he had to catch up while he could. 

"What?" He frowned a little, confused. "Who?" Jubilee rolled her eyes, and inched her hip up onto the corner of his desk. 

"The Lieutenant." The reminder of Remy brought heat to his face, and he hoped it didn't show. That would lead to questions he didn't want to answer, and more reminders of things he wanted to push as far from his mind as possible. Like how he'd gone home last night hot and flustered and ended up having some rather explicit dreams. It really had been too long. "You've been joined at his hip for the past couple of days, so if anyone would know – it's you."

"I…" He hesitated, because it occurred to him that he didn't actually know the answer to that. He assumed, given the flirting and the borderline inappropriate behaviour towards him, but he couldn't be sure. "I don't know." He finally answered, throwing in a light shrug in the hopes that he appeared to not care. "He hasn't mentioned anyone, but we were kinda focused on the case." 

"What, not even a 'my wife will be pissed that I'm late home again' kinda comment?" She pushed, and Pietro sighed. 

"No, and he doesn't wear a wedding ring either. Honestly, from what I've seen, he's single and will probably stay that way as long as he can." When she raised her eyebrows, he shrugged again. "He likes to flirt. Can't seem him being the type for long-term commitment." He narrowed his eyes a little. "You're not thinking about-," 

"What? No!" She laughed. "I mean he's gorgeous and hell I wouldn't kick him out of bed in the right situation, but…" She shrugged. "Kinda get the feeling he's after dick." At the look on Pietro's face, she laughed again. "What? I'm not saying he's gay or anything. Just seems to be what he's going after right now." He said nothing, and she rolled her eyes. "Just saying. I've seen the way he looks at you. Like he's mentally peeling off that suit." 

"He… he does not!" Okay, he was definitely at risk of blushing now. 

"Totally does." She teased, jabbing a finger into his shoulder. "If you went for that sorta thing I'd tell you to get in there." He jerked away from her, and focused back on his computer screen. 

"Yeah, well…" He muttered, willing back the blush still threatening to show itself. "Don't you have work to do?" She laughed again, and slid off his desk. 

"Fine, fine. I get the hint. I'll leave you to your paperwork." She bounded away to her desk, and Pietro let out a sigh of relief. He didn't need to be thinking about Remy that way, not after last night. God, how was he even going to face him when he finally turned up at the station? 

"Where is he, anyway?" He turned in his chair, calling over to her desk. She gave him a shrug in response. 

"No idea. His coat's in the office, but I didn't see him when I came in." So he was at the station, at least. He considered the idea that maybe he'd caught another case – after all, murder didn't stop to give them a day off – but from what he'd already seen, Remy wouldn't have left without his coat. So, he was somewhere in the station, and would almost certainly turn up at entirely the wrong moment. 

Deciding he really needed to stop thinking about the Lieutenant, he turned back to his computer, and focused on his paperwork. 

\-- 

Commander Munroe was formidable in appearance – sat behind her generous desk in a sharp black suit, her sleek white hair pulled back from her face in a tidy, professional bun, her entire presence just exuding command and control. But the smile she gave Remy as he stood before her was soft, and friendly, and put him completely at ease. It was the same smile she'd given him when they'd first met, when she'd offered him the position in her Homicide division. 

"I have a copy of your report already, Lieutenant." She tapped the file that sat in front of her on the desk. "You were very quick to close the case. Well done." 

"Remy had a good team to work wit'." He gave her a smile in return. It would be easy to forget that she was his superior, but he knew better than to let that happen. Ororo Munroe wasn't a friend – not when they were on the job. She was in command, and could take away his job as easily as she had given it to him. "An' it was a fairly straightforward case." 

"An excellent start to your career with us, Lieutenant." She set the report aside – she'd already read it through, making a note of how Remy had written favourably about Detective Maximoff's abilities in the field and during the interrogation and interview processes. It was nothing she hadn't read before in other reports, but it pleased her to know the new Lieutenant – an outsider yet – thought the same as the members of the force who had been under Erik's command for many years. 

She knew of the whispers and rumours that surrounded Pietro, especially concerning his early rise to the rank of Detective, and she also knew they were all wrong or taken way out of proportion. His family tie to the Commissioner meant his every move was debated, and his skill had been called into question on a number of occasions, though nothing official had been brought to her. She knew Pietro was good at his job and his natural talent and hard work were the only reasons he earned the Detective badge, but it was nice to see that someone not under Erik's control thought the same. If it ever came to it, she could call upon Remy to stand in his defence. "Your success rate of cases is also very impressive." 

"T'ank you, ma'am." He paused. "Or do you prefer 'sir'? Remy ain' had a female Commander befo'." She resisted the urge to laugh a little. 

"Either will do fine, Lieutenant." She reassured him. "I'm unsure as to how procedure worked with your Commander back in New Orleans, but generally I like to have a report on the status of ongoing cases as soon as you have necessary information for me, and likewise an update on any breakthroughs. When it comes to Homicide, I need to be kept in the loop so I can take any necessary measures with regards to the press, amongst other things." She paused a moment, studying his reaction, and then went on. "The King case is an exception, as it was opened and closed within twenty-four hours. But for future references, I will expect to see you in my office as soon as possible after you open a case." 

"Yes, ma'am." He gave a nod. "Dat's de way t'ings worked back home. It was Remy's intention to drop by yesterday after we followed up on de caller from de airport." He smiled again. "But den our suspect walked righ' into our hands." 

"Of course. As I said, this case is an exception." She smiled back at him, folding her hands on the desk in front of her. "Keep this up, Lieutenant, and you may yet have a long and promising career in the NYPD." 

"Hope so, ma'am." He grinned now, light and casual, and he gave her a casual salute before he turned and left her office. Ororo watched him go, and allowed herself a small, quiet laugh. 

"Oh yes, he's very charming." She murmured to herself. She glanced up when there was a knock at the door. "Come in." When Remy poked his head back through, she raised her eyebrows. "Did you forget something, Lieutenant?" 

"Actually, ma'am, Remy was jus' wonderin' 'bout somet'in." When she gestured for him to continue, he dragged his hand through his hair. "Lieutenants are allowed to request a long-term partner, oui?" 

"Of course, yes. We encourage partnerships within the divisions." She had a feeling she knew what was coming, but knew she had to play it clueless. "Do you already have someone in mind, Lieutenant?" 

"Maybe." He nodded. "Remy's gon' see how t'ings play out firs', test de waters so to speak." 

"A good plan. Well, if and when you make a decision, feel free to drop by and submit your request, Lieutenant." She gave him a friendly smile, and he grinned in return. 

"T'anks, Remy will. Sorry fo' disturbin' you, Commander." She waved him off, and watched him go for a second time. 

She gave it a week before Detective Maximoff found himself partnered with Lieutenant LeBeau. 

\-- 

Pietro looked up from his paperwork when a Styrofoam cup was placed on his desk. Surprised, he glanced up, and met the eyes of one Remy LeBeau. Of course. Who else would it have been? 

"Lookin' sharp dis mornin', Detective." Remy grinned. "Dat a new suit?" Pietro stared at him for a moment, stunned by the comment and unsure how to respond. 

"I… uh, no…" Well, that was a start. Remy's eyes flicked down over the sharp lines of the suit, and then back up to Pietro's face, and the Detective felt heat creeping up under his collar again. 

"Well, dat colour is good on you." He dropped in a wink, and then strode away towards his office. Pietro fidgeted in his chair, fingers tugging at the lapels of his steel-grey suit, and surprised himself by actually being _flattered_. His eyes dropped to the cup that sat steaming on his desk, and he sighed as he picked it up. 

No one had ever brought him coffee before. 

He caught Jubilee's eye as he took a sip, and she gave him a knowing grin that had him rolling his eyes. It was just coffee. Coffee and a compliment on his outfit. It didn't mean anything. Remy was just… being nice. It didn't mean anything if the compliment had made him feel good, or that the look Remy had given him suggested there was more to the casual remark than it might seem, or the fact that only the evening before Pietro had come so, _so_ close to throwing caution to the wind and jumping his goddamn _boss_ in the firing range. 

It was just coffee. 

He went back to his paperwork, watching Jubilee jump up and join another Detective on his way out of the station from the corner of his eye. Probably caught a case, he mused, finishing up what he was doing and moving onto the next report he had to write. He glanced up again as a shadow fell across his desk, and groaned at the sight of Detective Cortez. 

"Do you really have nothing better to do?" He murmured, returning his gaze to his work in an attempt to brush him off. Of course, something so simple as that wouldn't shake off the asshole that was Cortez. 

"I'm just amazed at how low you can stoop, Pietro." Cortez eased a hip up onto Pietro's desk, his arms crossed over his chest as he smirked down at him like the smug little bastard he was. "He's only been here two days and you're already cosying up to the new LT." Oh, of course. Typical. "Think if you get into his pants you'll get boosted up the ladder some more?" 

"You're like a broken record, Cortez. Someone should throw you in the trash where you belong." He murmured, not once looking away from his work. 

"Wouldn't surprise me if your father hired him so you could use him as a stepping stone." Cortez went on, ignoring Pietro's comment. "Is that why he picked you for that King case? Pretty weird how you were the first one he picked out." 

"Jealousy is ugly. But then that's nothing new for you, huh?" If he kept his voice even and uninterested, Cortez would get pissed off and inevitably storm off to break something. The sooner the better. 

"Bet he's already bent you over his desk. Pretty sure the two of you both stayed late last night. Did you get on your knees and suck his cock to thank him for putting you on his case?" Pietro's fingers hesitated for a moment over his keyboard, and he forced himself to keep going. 

"That might be how you get along here, Cortez, but some of us have actual skill and talent for the job." He snapped out, knowing he was a fool for letting Cortez get under his skin like that. 

"Detective Cortez." They both turned at Remy's voice. "It is Cortez, oui?" 

"Yes, sir." Pietro felt himself smirk at the worry he heard in Cortez's voice. For all his big talk, he was a coward. 

"Got a job fo' you." Remy walked over and handed him a slip of paper. "You seem like de righ' man fo' it." Pietro only got a brief glimpse of the paper, but he read the first line of an address. "Dis upstanding citizen o' New York has some info'mation on a case. You go on down dere an' talk to him, bring him in if you have to." 

"Oh, uh. Yes sir." Cortez stood up straight and hurriedly moved away, and Pietro raised an eyebrow at Remy. 

"Yo' opinion, Pietro?" He grinned. "Cortez is de righ' man to go an' talk to an old drunk wit' an aversion to hygiene an' a tendency to bite people, oui?" Pietro didn't even try to stop the grin from spreading across his face. 

"Oh, definitely, sir." His curiosity wouldn't let it go, however. "Which case is that for?" 

"Hm? Oh. Some old case dat Detective Worthington is workin' on. Captain Howlett asked Remy to pass on de info'mation to him, an' Remy said he'd get someone to chase it up." Remy shrugged one shoulder. "An' when Remy sees cops who have not'in' better to do dan bot'er ot'ers when dey're workin', he t'inks dey need somet'in' to do, non?" 

"Guess so." He wondered briefly if Remy had overheard the things Cortez had said to him, but if he had then he wasn't letting it show. 

"Does dat happen often, Detective?" He nodded at the retreating back of Cortez. "He cause trouble fo' ot'er cops?" Pietro was tempted to let it all spill out, but that would mean revealing to Remy that his father was the Commissioner and he still wasn't quite ready for that information to come out. Plus, as much as he hated Cortez, he didn't want to make any official complaint – it would undoubtedly come back to bite him in the ass if Cortez got fired or transferred because of something he'd said, and the rumours about him would only increase. 

"I couldn't say, Lieutenant." So he closed himself off, and went back to business. Remy studied him for a moment, and then shrugged. 

"Fair enough. You jus' let Remy know if he starts bein' a problem. Remy don' stand fo' cops takin' shots at each ot'er in his division." Not entirely satisfied, but knowing he'd get nothing more from Pietro, Remy turned and went back into his office to call up the file on Detective Cortez. He hadn't heard their conversation but he could read body language well, and Pietro had been pissed and uncomfortable and it was clear Cortez had no love for him. If he noticed it getting worse, he might even take it to Logan – the man had been the Captain of Homicide for a long time. If anyone knew what went on between the Detectives, it would be him. 

\-- 

The day was relatively quiet. He had a couple of visits from other detectives to update him on their cases, and he spent the rest of the time familiarising himself with every one so he actually had an idea of what they were dealing with. Most of them were fairly straightforward – a couple of robberies gone wrong, a hit-and-run that was turning out to be a deliberate attack, a lover's spat that ended in blood and death, and someone pushing someone else off a roof. They had fingerprints or other DNA for some of them, solid witnesses for others, and even the suspect for two of the cases. Nothing too difficult. 

He glanced up as he heard heavy footsteps, knowing an angry stride when he heard one, and he was just sitting back in his chair when Cortez stepped into his doorway and strode up to his desk, slamming his fist upon it. 

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" He demanded. His raised voice alerted the other detectives – including Pietro – who all turned to see what the commotion was. Pietro had seen Cortez return, and knew this wasn't going to be pretty. He just didn't know who would come out of it worse. 

"Beg yo' pardon, Detective?" Remy's voice was quiet, and calm. Loud enough for the other cops to hear, however – and Pietro could tell immediately that Cortez was standing on very thin ice. That was the voice of a dangerous man. 

"Don't act like there's nothing going on here. Bullshit!" Cortez snapped. "You sent me to that shithole deliberately – what, 'cause I was breathing down the neck of your boytoy?" He lifted an arm and yanked his sleeve back, showing a raw red bite in his skin, bruising already forming around it. "You knew the piece of shit would attack me!" 

"You were sent to get a statement from a witness, Detective." Remy rose from his chair and circled around the desk, aiming to guide Cortez out of his office. "An' _you_ were sent 'cause you apparently had not'in' better to do dan bot'er yo' fellow detectives when dey're tryin' to work. If you got time fo' dat, den you got time to follow up a lead fo' a case." He got him to the doorway before Cortez shook him off, and got right in his face. 

"Bullshit!" He hissed. "I'm not fucking blind. You don't think I don't know about the little deal you've got? He sucks your cock and you'll help him rise in rank-," Cortez cut off as he found himself slammed up against the door, Remy's elbow pressed dangerously against his throat, red-on-black eyes burning hotly into his own. 

"You wanna watch yo' mout', Cortez." He warned, his voice still calm and quiet, and sounding all the more dangerous for it. "You migh' have been able to get away wit' talkin' to yo' old Lieutenant like dat, but dat's not de way t'ings work around here no more. If you want to stay in dis job, yo' gon' start showin' dis LT some respect. You will do what he says, when he says, an' yo' not gon' whine 'bout it like a lil' bitch." He paused, his head cocking to one side very slightly. "Has Remy made himself clear?" 

"Yes." Cortez muttered, his voice thin and nervous compared to his earlier outburst. Remy's eyes narrowed a little. 

"Yes what, Detective?" He applied a little more pressure to the elbow at his throat – just enough to remind him that he was in a dangerous place. 

"Yes, sir." Cortez corrected, and Remy gave a short nod as he stepped back. 

"Good." He gestured to the bite on his arm. "Why don' you head down to de hospital an' get dat checked out." When Cortez lingered, he lifted sharp eyes to his once more. "Dat wasn' a request." After one final look, Cortez stepped away, and headed for the exit. Remy turned, his gaze sweeping over the cops who were all considering hurriedly going back to their work. "Remy don' tolerate dat shit here. You got a problem wit' somet'in' he does, den you come to him like a mature adult, an' it will be discussed as such. You come stormin' into his office wit' wild accusations an' treat him wit' disrespect, den dat's what you'll get in return. Let Cortez be a lesson fo' all o' you." They knew a dismissal when they heard one, and so they all went back to their stations and continued with their work. Remy let his gaze linger on Pietro for a moment, knowing he needed to find out what problem exactly Cortez had with him. 

He'd already figured it had something to do with Pietro's early rise to the rank of Detective, but there was more to it than that. Jubilee had also earned her Detective badge fairly early, and unless he just hadn't seen evidence of it yet, Cortez didn't seem to have any issue with her. 

"Lieutenant." He turned, and met the hard stare of Captain Howlett. "I need you in my office for a few moments." With a final glance over at Pietro, Remy dutifully followed Logan into his office. "That was quite a display you put on there." Logan murmured as he shut the door. As Logan moved around to sit behind his desk, Remy dropped into the visitor's chair. 

"You gon' tell Remy off fo' slapping him back?" He asked, lifting his legs to prop them up on the corner of Logan's desk. Logan glared at the offending boots for a moment. 

"I should." He admitted, choosing to ignore them for the time being. "We tend to frown on violence against subordinates here." He studied Remy as he spoke – although he no doubt expected to be disciplined, his posture was casual and relaxed, and if Logan didn't know better, it would appear that he didn't care at all. But he did know better, because he'd familiarised himself with Remy's history on the job, from his case history to reports from superiors on his performance. Remy respected where respect was deserved. "However in the case of that slimy asshole, I'm inclined to forget that." Remy raised his eyebrows at that, and then grinned. 

"So Cortez ain' a favourite around here, den?" Logan sat back, and shrugged. 

"He's a jackass. He does a fairly good job when he puts his mind to it, I'm not denying that. He wouldn't still be here if he wasn't a decent cop. But he likes to stir things up, even if he's all bark and no bite." Logan sighed a little. "I'd love to have him slapped back for it, but without any official complaints from the department, there's little we can do." 

"What's his deal wit' Pietro?" At Logan's glance, Remy shrugged one shoulder. "Remy's only been here a couple o' days, but he seems real fixed on houndin' Pietro." 

"There's a little friction there, yes." Logan agreed. "Cortez will talk down anyone who crosses him, especially if he's in a bad mood, but he does tend to aim more for Pietro. He doesn't like that Pietro's better than he is, and so much better than it took him half the time to earn a Detective's badge than he did. He's got it into his head that Pietro managed it due to other means, and not just on his skill as a cop." 

"Oui, Remy figured dat much. Seems Cortez has got it into his head dat Pietro's offerin' sexual favours to aut'ority figures to get ahead." Remy paused, and snickered at his own unintentional pun. Logan rolled his eyes. "Now Remy knows he don' speak wit' much aut'ority on de subject, since he's not even been here a week yet, but Pietro don' seem de type. Remy's sure it's bullshit, but is dere somet'in' he should know?" 

"If you're asking if there has ever been an incident that might imply such a thing, then stop right there." Logan growled. "Pietro does the job, and he does it well, and that's the only thing behind his success." Remy held up both hands in surrender. 

"Jus' asking, Captain. Didn' believe it fo' a second, but gotta make sure. You get dat, righ'?" Logan grumbled a little, but he gave a nod. "Yo' pretty quick to defend him. Guessin' you've known him a while?" 

"I'm a friend of his family." Logan told him, though he wasn't sure why. "I've watched that kid grow up, watched his career as a cop evolve. So yeah, I'm pretty defensive when it comes to Pietro." He narrowed his eyes a little. "In all areas of his life." 

"Well, he's a good cop." Remy shrugged. "Ace, actually, but don' tell anyone Remy said dat. Don' want people t'inkin' he's got favourites in de division. De last t'ing Remy wants to do is cause mo' trouble fo' him." Logan was surprised at his words, and to hide that surprise he scowled and gave Remy's boots a shove so his legs dropped down off his desk. 

"Get out of my office, Cajun." He growled, but his tone was light and there was a faint quirk to the corner of his mouth. 

"Should Remy look like you gave him a stern talking-to?" He grinned as he pushed up from the chair. "He can put on a good kicked-puppy look." 

"Shut up and get out, ya pain in the ass." Remy laughed as he opened the door, and Logan allowed himself a slight smile as the Cajun left his office. 

Okay, maybe the Lieutenant wasn't as bad as he'd first thought. Cocky and annoying, but… not so bad. He'd keep an eye on him, though, especially around Pietro. If Cortez had already decided Pietro was using Remy for personal gain, there had to be some groundwork for it. Of course, Cortez was an idiot who would see things wherever he looked if he wanted to, but Logan was still going to keep a close watch on them. 

Remy strode out into the bullpen, dragging on his coat as he stopped beside Pietro's desk. He hesitated only for a moment as he watched Pietro work, and then he cleared his throat to get his attention. There was a brief flash of worry in Pietro's eyes, concealed quickly but not quickly enough for Remy not to have noticed. 

"Wit' Remy, Detective." He didn't give Pietro chance to argue, and as he strode away he smirked to himself as he heard Pietro scramble to follow. He remained silent in the elevator, wanting to see how long it would take before Pietro questioned his order and wanted to know where it was they were going. To his credit, it wasn't until they were sat in Remy's car that Pietro found his voice. 

"Sir?" He clicked his seatbelt into place, and turned to look at the Lieutenant. "Did we get a case?" 

"Non." Remy flashed him an easy smile as he pulled out of the garage, and Pietro frowned. 

"Then… are we following a lead for an existing case?" _Always t'inkin' 'bout de work…_  

"Non." He repeated, pausing for a light as he tried to remember which road he needed to take. He'd been to New York a couple of times in his youth, and he'd dropped by a month earlier to familiarise himself with the city before he started work, and although he had a great memory for these things, he still wasn't entirely confident of the entire layout of the roads. 

"Then where are we going, sir?" Oh, how he loved it when Pietro called him 'sir'. It was terrible of him, but he gave him the tiniest of thrills. 

"We, Detective," he told him as he eased onto the road he needed, "are goin' fo' lunch." 

"Lunch?" Nothing could hide the surprise in Pietro's voice, and Remy resisted the urge to grin. It was as if Pietro had never heard of lunch before. "Sir?" 

"You have been workin' non-stop since dis mornin', Pietro. Ot'er dan dat coffee, Remy hasn' seen you eat or drink anyt'in' all day, an' dat's not good. So, we're takin' a break, an' we're gettin' lunch." Pietro sat back in his seat, not sure how to react. No, he hadn't eaten anything since a rushed breakfast this morning, but no one had ever actually paid that much attention before. No one had ever pointed it out to him, let alone actually take him out for food. This was definitely new territory, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it – especially considering the incident that had passed between them the previous evening. 

He remained silent as Remy worked his way through New York, partially relieved when they finally came to a stop. He frowned a little as Remy dropped his 'on-duty' sign onto the dash. 

"You're not supposed to use that unless you're actually on duty, Lieutenant." He pointed out. Remy merely grinned. 

"Den consider us on duty if you like, Pietro. Gets us a good parkin' space eit'er way." Leaving Pietro scowling in the passenger seat, he got out of the car and stepped out into New York air. It was cooler here than he was used to, but the scent of city was the same. When Pietro joined him on the sidewalk, he locked the car, and then guided him towards a diner with a hand on his shoulder. "Remy's been to dis place befo'. Good food, good company an' it's pretty quiet." Pietro said nothing, still trying to wrap his head around the fact he was going to lunch with his Lieutenant. 

And he was desperately convincing himself to not think of this as some sort of date. 

Because it wasn't. Not in any way. It was just lunch with his superior in the middle of a work day, because said superior had noticed he hadn't eaten and was understandably concerned for the wellbeing of his team. Yes, that was it. Nothing more. 

And still, sitting across from Remy in a booth towards the back of the diner, he couldn't help but wonder what a date with Remy would be like. He tried not to, because such thoughts were a very bad idea and it was hardly as though he ever intended to go down that road, but he couldn't stop himself. He imagined, in a world where he didn't have to play the successful, straight son for his father, that Remy would take him somewhere with a bit of class, and definitely somewhere romantic. He seemed the type to put in that kind of effort. Maybe he'd even insist on paying, and ordering expensive wine. He'd probably know more about wine than Pietro did. 

Once he got started, he couldn't stop. He imagined their conversation would be light, not too intimate – not yet – and Remy would make jokes and laugh and Pietro would probably find him stupidly charming even if he didn't want to admit it. They'd part ways outside the restaurant, or maybe Remy would insist on taking him home – home to a father who didn't care that his son sometimes enjoyed the company of men, so he could maybe kiss Remy goodnight at the door and Remy would wink and tell him he'd see him bright and early at the station. 

"Pietro?" He snapped out of his thoughts, and hurriedly pushed them to the darkest corner of his mind. He couldn't think of those things, because it would never happen. Even if he developed strong enough feelings for Remy, he could never act on them. There wouldn't be a date, or a kiss goodnight. There wouldn't be a relationship, because he couldn't let himself indulge in something like that. "Is everyt'in' alright?" 

"Fine, yeah." He muttered, hurriedly taking a bite out of the burger he'd ordered after he realised he'd barely touched it. "Just… tired, I guess. Paperwork and reports can really take it out of you." 

"You work yo'self too hard." Remy gave him a smile, but it didn't quite touch his eyes – which, Pietro noted, were filled with concern. Besides Jubilee and Logan, no one at work really cared enough to be concerned for him. 

"You don't get far without hard work." Pietro murmured, not even realising he'd spoken it out loud until Remy raised an eyebrow. "Just something I've been telling myself since I was in school." 

"Well, here's somet'in' Remy's gon' tell you now." He gestured at him with his fork. "You don' get far workin' yo'self to deat', eit'er. You gotta make time fo' yo'self, time to relax an' jus' enjoy life, ot'erwise yo' gon' blink an' you'll be de wrong side o' forty an' wonderin' what de hell you did wit' yo' life." He stabbed his fork into one of his fries, and shrugged. "Dere's mo' to life dan work, Pietro." 

"Not for me there isn't." He admitted with a sigh. "Not really." Remy heard the resigned tone of his voice, and knew then that he was going to do everything in his power to change that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro is summoned to the Commander's office.

A week since Remy had joined their team, and Pietro was started to get more than a little frustrated. Every morning, a cup of coffee was placed on his desk, or waiting for him if he was elsewhere when the Lieutenant finally found his way to the station, and Jubilee was no longer the only one who had noticed. Thankfully, if Cortez had noticed or heard about it, he didn't say anything – probably still smarting from the slap he'd taken from Remy. 

But it wasn't the coffee that was frustrating him. Whilst he didn't like having the attention it drew from the other cops, the gesture was actually rather nice, and _that_ was what was frustrating him. He was starting to get used to it, starting to look forward to that small, kind gesture every morning. It was only mixing up his own feelings for the Lieutenant even further – and he was confused enough as it was. 

He knew he shouldn't feel a little disappointed when Remy selected other detectives to work a case with him – and god help him he actually felt a tiny bit _jealous_ when they closed the case with relative speed and he overheard an offer of going out for a couple of drinks to celebrate after work – but he couldn't shake it off, either. Of course Remy wouldn't always pick him. They weren't partners, and he told himself he should be glad that he wasn't always expected to trot at Remy's heels like an obedient dog ready to serve his master.

And boy did _that_ generate some mental images he didn't need to be having at work. 

Part of him worried that Remy had already heard about who his father was, and that was why he wasn't picking him for cases, but he tried to brush that aside. He was just using the team to his full advantage, that was all – and besides, he'd had his own case to tie up after Jubilee had pulled him in on hers. He kept telling himself that this is what he wanted – Remy frustrated him in more ways than one, and the less time he spent around him meant the quicker he could get over that stupid sexual attraction to him. And yet… 

"Pietro." He glanced up at the sound of Logan's voice, and turned. The Captain leant around the doorframe of his office. "Commander Munroe wants to see you in her office. Now."

"Yes, sir." Pietro gave a nod, and rose from his desk, willing himself not to read too much into the order. It could be she simply wanted to pass on a message from his father, or to talk about something unrelated to anything that could mean trouble for him. As he rode the elevator up, he wondered if Cortez had made some sort of complaint or accusation, or if maybe Remy had informed the Commander about Cortez's behaviour. He hoped not. He didn't want his father to know about it, and if the Commander knew, the Commissioner knew. 

He was directed straight through to the Commander's office, and her assistant held open the door for him as he entered. His stomach twisted into nervous knots and his heart sank as he registered the long, lean figure standing with hands in pockets beside the Commander's desk. _Oh god._  

"Ah, Detective Maximoff." Commander Munroe smiled warmly, which threw him. Evidently he wasn't going to be disciplined for anything, but that didn't ease the dread that was steadily creeping in. "I do apologise for pulling you here so suddenly, but I have an important meeting to attend to in twenty minutes and I wanted this done quickly." 

"There is no need to apologise, sir." Pietro stood straight and stiff, hands clasped behind his back, a complete opposite to the casual relaxed stance of Remy LeBeau.

"I'm sure you're wondering what this is about." She could see the tension in his shoulders, his jaw, and although he tried to hide it she didn't miss the worry in his eyes, either. "You can relax, Detective. You're not in any trouble." When he still didn't relax – at least, not visibly – she went on. "Lieutenant LeBeau has requested a partnership with you." 

Well, that threw him. 

"What?" He stammered out, and then remembered the company he was in. "Beg your pardon, sir, but… I don't understand." 

"It is not uncommon for a Lieutenant to partner themselves with a detective from their division, you are aware of this." He nodded, and she went on. "Lieutenant Summers did not choose that path during his career in Homicide, preferring to work solo, but Lieutenant LeBeau wishes to assign you as his partner. You would work cases together by default, and you will be notified along with the Lieutenant the moment a case is brought to him. It will not be much different to how things run already, however a partnership provides some benefits to both parties." Pietro knew what benefits they were. A partnership with a Lieutenant meant he would get first pick of the bigger cases, he would get time in the spotlight during press releases and almost certainly have his face on TV for the more high-profile cases, and it would work in his favour when ascending the ranks. Being a good team player was always a tick in the right box if you wanted to go far with the job, along with showing leadership skills. As the Lieutenant's partner, he could be asked to call the shots in his absence, and delegate tasks to other detectives. It would definitely be a step forward in his career. 

"I understand." He murmured, but he couldn't hold back the question that had started poking at his mind. "But why me?" Ororo turned to Remy, and gestured for him to take the floor. 

"Well… 'cause yo' a damn good cop, to start wit'." Remy grinned. "See, Remy's been playin' de field a lil', testin' out de ot'er detectives, an' whilst dey're all fantastic, none o' dem really fit wit' Remy." He shrugged lightly. "When it comes to a partnership, bot' sides have to be on de same wavelengt', so to speak. Dey have to be able to follow de same train o' t'ought wit'out bein' prompted, an' dat's what Remy found wit' you on dat firs' case we worked." Now he smiled. "Plus, yo' de only one – 'sides maybe Jubilee – who wasn' afraid to speak his mind. Remy ain' lookin' fo' a partner who will jus' do as he says an' dat's dat. He needs someone who ain' afraid to question him, to challenge him. Dat's you, Pietro."

"You can respectfully decline, Pietro." Ororo added, keeping her eyes on his. "But it would be an opportunity wasted." He didn't need to be told that, and it was clear they both knew he wouldn't decline. He'd known he wouldn't decline the second the word 'partnership' had left the Commander's lips. He'd be crazy not to accept, to take this step forward, even if it meant tying himself to the one man he'd been trying to avoid. 

"It would, Commander." He agreed, and he slid his gaze in Remy's direction. "Which is why I am going to accept." Remy's grin was quick and dazzling, and Pietro mentally kicked himself for feeling a small rush of delight at the sight of it. 

"Excellent. A wise decision, Detective." Ororo smiled warmly at him again, and then rose from her desk. "I shall put it on record." Remy reached over the desk to shake her hand, and then Pietro stepped forward to do the same. When Remy turned to him, hand outstretched, Pietro felt his mouth go dry. Cautiously, though attempting to hide it, he took Remy's hand in his own, and grasped firmly. It was only meant to be a brief handshake, but he found himself freezing in place as Remy's fingertips slid up the inside of his wrist before circling around and grasping his wrist in a rather dominant, possessive manner. The whole gesture only took a split second and then Remy was pulling his hand away, but to Pietro it had taken several minutes. "Now I must cut this short, as I need to be on my way." 

"O' course, Commander. T'ank you fo' takin' de time to arrange dis." Remy gave her a bright, charming smile, and then dropped a hand onto Pietro's shoulder. Still too stunned from the handshake, Pietro didn't bother to shake him off. "C'mon Detective. We've taken up too much o' de Commander's time already. Let's go back to work." He led Pietro from the room, and directed him towards the elevator. "You alrigh', Pietro? You look a lil'… flushed." 

"I… I'm fine." He said quickly, straightening his shoulders as he tried to push his thoughts aside. But the warmth of Remy's hand, and that firm, dominant grasp on his wrist kept pushing back in, sending a tingle down his spine that he couldn't ignore. Pietro was a naturally dominating personality, and always had been, which is why he got such a thrill when he brushed with a personality even more dominating than his own – which, judging from that small, quick gesture, was exactly what Remy was. 

"Should probably have asked you befo' Remy went to de Commander like dat." Remy shrugged, and Pietro glanced at him in surprise. "Remy didn' want it to seem like we were gangin' up on you or not'in'." 

"Oh. No, that's…" He could see that the slight hint of guilt in Remy's eyes was genuine, and so he smiled. "Honestly, if you'd come to me first, I'd have told you not to bother. So I'm glad you didn't, because then there would have been the small chance you'd have listened, and I'd miss out on this great opportunity." Remy laughed a little at that. 

"See. You already know Remy too well, Pietro. We're gon' be a perfect team, non?" He stepped out into Homicide ahead of Pietro and strode briskly towards his office, leaving Pietro to wander to his desk almost in a daze. Jubilee perked up as soon as she saw him, and grinned. 

"Tell me you guys just had wild animal sex in the elevator." She teased, and Pietro found himself rather suddenly fighting back a blush as his head became filled with yet more mental images he shouldn't be having at work. "It's so fun to wind you up, Pietro." She laughed. "But seriously, what did the Commander want?" 

"Oh. Uh." He composed himself, and slipped back into business mode. "The Lieutenant requested me as his partner, and I accepted." 

"Huh. Didn't think we still did arranged marriages in the department." At Pietro's glare, she only laughed harder. "No, but honestly… that's great, Pietro. If it was gonna be anyone, it was gonna be you, no question."

"You figured he was scouting for a partner?" Pietro asked, frowning a little. Jubilee nodded, reaching into a pocket for her packet of gum. 

"Totally. He did a case per detective, or poked into existing ones and worked with them a while." She shrugged. "But I figured he was just doing it for show. He picked you the day he got here." 

"I don't think it was that fast." At least, he was telling himself it hadn't been – but he wasn't so sure of that deep down. They _had_ worked well together on that first case, after all. 

"Totally was." Jubilee argued with a grin. "The second he called you for that case, you were his." Her choice of phrase had him shifting uncomfortably, and he risked a glance in the direction of Remy's office. "Bet that's gonna dig deep into Cortez." 

"You mean it's going to convince him further that I'm clearly sleeping with him?" Pietro sighed, sinking into his chair. 

"Cortez is the only one who thinks like that, y'know. The rest of is know it's bullshit." She hopped up onto his desk, gum snapping in her mouth as she shrugged. "He's just a jealous prick who can't handle that you're the golden boy and he's just dirt on our shoes." 

"Maybe, but jealous pricks can make trouble if they want to. One wrong word to the right person and I'll find myself the subject of an investigation, Jubes." He sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. "And if it got back to my father…" 

"He'd know it was bullshit too." She rolled her eyes. "Relax, hotshot. After Remy kicked him back into place, I don't think Cortez will be making any trouble for you." She grinned. "And boy was that hot." 

"You concern me sometimes." He told her, but he smiled fondly as he said it. "Now get the hell off my desk. I have another report to finish typing up." 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Y'know… it's a shame you don't do the guy thing." She said as she hopped back down off his desk. "You two would be a seriously steamin' couple." Pietro tensed, and hurriedly distracted himself by bringing up his report. 

That made two people who thought they were a good couple. 

\--

He was just finishing up when Remy strode out of his office and signalled for him to follow. He jumped up, grabbing his jacket as he followed – already working out that they had a case. He knew that look. 

"What's the case?" He asked as they made their way down to the garage. 

"One victim, female." Remy told him, fishing his keys out of his pocket. "Found in Riverside Park." Pietro slid into the car, realising as he did so that he was already starting to get used to this. "A couple o' kids found her, buried under some bushes behind de skate park." 

"Damn. That'll stick with them." Pietro murmured, hands already gripping the sides of his seat as Remy tore out of the garage at his usual high speed. "Do we have cause of death, an ID?" 

"Didn' say. De kids freaked out, but one o' dem had de common sense to call de cops. First on scene took one look at de body an' called fo' us." Remy gunned the car through traffic, weaving in and out sharply enough that Pietro actually wondered how this guy had ever managed to pass a driving test. "Dey secured de scene, got de kids to sit somewhere nearby. CSIs an' de ME are en route, should get dere 'bout same time as us." 

"I imagine we'll get there before them." Pietro murmured, his breath catching in his throat as Remy accelerated further. "I think that was a red light." 

"Didn' look red to Remy." The Cajun shot back with a smile. Pietro rolled his eyes. 

"You're an officer of the law." He pointed out. "The least you could do is act like it." 

"Are you makin' comments on Remy's drivin', Detective?" He lifted one eyebrow, and Pietro raised both hands in surrender. 

"No, sir. Just… an observation." He muttered, barely suppressing the yelp as Remy took a corner rather sharply. "Out of curiosity, though… where exactly did you learn to drive?" Remy slid his gaze in his direction, and gave him a devilish grin. 

"Never been to Nawlins, eh?" He laughed. Pietro merely stared at him. 

"You get many road accidents down there?" He asked, his tone dry. Remy only laughed more. 

"No mo' dan you'd expect, Detective." He braked for some lights, and sat back as he dragged long fingers through his untidy hair. "De officer who called us in didn' say much, but she did say dat it ain' pretty. Better prepare yo'self fo' de worst, Pietro." 

"I've seen some pretty nasty scenes, Lieutenant. I can handle it." Okay, that sounded a little defensive, and Pietro wished he could take it back and rephrase it. But if Remy noticed, he didn't pay it much attention. 

"Jus' a warnin'." They fell into companionable silence for the rest of the drive – although Pietro was silent merely because if he opened his mouth he'd probably question Remy's driving and risk being made to walk the rest of the way – and Remy took a moment to slip his sunglasses onto his face after he pulled up into the nearest parking space he could find. Pietro still wanted to ask about his eyes, and about why he felt he needed to hide them so much, but he figured that would be a question for much later, when they weren't still complete strangers. 

They saw the crime scene before they reached it. The officers who arrived first had cordoned off the area with tape, and it was a stark contrast to the earthy tones of the park around them. One of the officers stood by with a couple of teenage boys, who drank nervously from cans of soda and kept glancing in the vague direction of the crime scene, whilst the other officer stood on guard. A few other civilians stood in the vicinity, curious about what was going on. Remy considered asking the officer to move them along, but they were far enough back that they wouldn't see anything anyway. Besides, give it a few hours and it would be all over the news. 

"Officer." He flashed his badge to the young woman. "Lieutenant LeBeau, an' Detective Maximoff. You got a homicide?" 

"Yes, sir. At least that's what it seems to be, and I've seen a few." She lifted the tape for them, and they slipped underneath and approached the body. "Slight scene contamination, as the boys tripped over a shoe that was sticking out of the bush." She gestured to one leg, and the heeled shoe on the foot. "The one who tripped said he thought someone had passed out in the bushes, so he and his friend tried to pull her free." Remy crouched, studying the body without getting too close. "The second they saw her face, they knew she was dead. That's when they backed off and called 911." 

"Oui, dat head wound says it all." He murmured, reaching for his recorder. "CSI an' de ME will be here soon. Direct dem over, an' try to keep de general public from getting too close." He glanced up at her. "Good work, Officer…?" 

"Pryde, sir." She told him with a smile, before slipping back under the tape to stand guard once more. 

"Victim is definitely female," Remy began, speaking into his recorder, "age undetermined, but no older dan early t'irties. Injuries include severe head trauma, some facial lacerations, an' bruisin' on de legs." He paused. "Bruisin' looks too old to be caused by de boys trippin' over her, but dere's some slight abrasions dat could be fresh." He let his gaze shift back to her face, and sighed. "Whoever she is, she was pretty once." He rose, and stepped back as he heard the approach of the CSIs. As they swept the scene, taking their photos and their samples, Remy stood on the sidelines with Pietro. "Dis ain' where she was killed." 

"No, it's a dump site." Pietro agreed. "No blood on the ground except where her head has been, so it's probably safe to assume she was dead, or close to, when she was left her." He studied the ground as the CSI team put markers beside sets of prints in the dirt. "We can't tell which prints belong to the kids yet, but if we ignore the ones by her lower half for now…" He gestured towards her head. "There are a couple higher up. Could belong to the killer." 

"Oui. We'll let de techs tell us dat." He turned and glanced over to the kids. "Let's go talk to de kids." Pietro nodded, and followed him over to the bench where the two boys sat, the other uniformed officer standing with them. One was very lean, probably rather tall, with shaggy blond hair – whilst his friend had a bit more meat on him, though it looked to be more muscle than fat, and his hair was short and dark. Remy showed them his badge as he stepped up to the bench. "Lieutenant Remy LeBeau. You two got names?" 

"Uh, yeah." The blond spoke first. "I'm Dave, and this is Matt." He gave his friend a slight nudge. 

"Full names, please." Pietro put in, taking out his notebook. 

"Oh, right. Sure. David Jennings." Dave told him, and Pietro made a note of it before glancing at Matt. 

"Matthew Phillips." Matt's voice was considerably deeper than Dave's, and Pietro put him as probably a year or two older. 

"An' how old are you bot'?" 

"I'm fifteen." Dave was definitely the more confident, even if his eyes kept darting towards the crime scene. "Matt's nearly seventeen. Hey, is she really dead back there?" 

"Oui, she's really dead." Remy stuck his hands in his pockets and studied the boys for a moment. "Since neit'er o' you are legal adults, we're supposed to wait fo' a parent or guardian befo' we can interview you." He paused, and shrugged. "But dat takes time, an' since yo' already told de officers what happened, don' see why we can' jus' ask you to repeat it." Pietro frowned, but he said nothing. He knew better than to undermine Remy's authority in front of civilians and cops of lower rank. 

"Well, we just…" Dave cast a glance at his friend, and then shrugged. "We were cutting through the trees over there, we were running 'cause we were gonna be late, and then Matt here just takes a nosedive towards the ground. I laughed 'cause it looked funny as hell, but then we realised someone was in the bush." Remy glanced at the time, and then raised his eyebrows. 

"Late, huh?" He murmured. "Oui, yo' a bit late fo' school." Both boys shared a glance, and Remy tried not to smirk. "Don' worry. Remy don' care if you were skippin' class." He tapped the badge he'd slid back onto his belt. "Homicide. Not a truant officer." He turned his attention to Matt. "So yo' de one who tripped? Why don' you tell us what happened?" 

"Well, like Dave said, we were running 'cause we were only skipping history." Matt explained, looking uncomfortable. "Our teacher's a real bore, and we've been studying the same shit – uh, sorry – for days. So we thought we'd just waste an hour at the skate park, and then head in later. But we lost track of time and we were worried that we were gonna miss our bus, so we cut across through the trees. Dave was behind because he dropped his skateboard, and I turned to make sure he was catching up – and that's when I tripped. I thought it was a root or a fallen branch or something, and I didn't look straight away 'cause I was worried about ripping my jeans." One hand reached down and rubbed at the dirt that still clung to one knee. "They're brand new and my mom will kill me if I ruin them." 

"So you tripped. What then?" Pietro asked, hurriedly making notes. 

"I was checking that my jeans were fine, and that's when Dave came over to see if I was alright, even though he was still laughing. I think I told him to fuck off or something, y'know how you do? And then I reached to pick up my skateboard and that's when I realised I'd tripped over someone's leg just sticking out of the bush. Dave was the one who said we should see if they needed help, so we sorta parted the bushes and tried to get her out." He paled now, and he swallowed thickly. "But then I saw the blood. I grabbed Dave's arm and told him not to touch anything else, 'cause my dad watches cop shows all the time. They always say not to touch anything 'cause it could contaminate the scene." 

"Dat's righ', an' you did good to remember dat." Remy nodded. "It's probably a long shot, but did eit'er o' you recognise her?" 

"Nah, man." Dave shook his head. "We get some girls around here, course, but they're mostly our age or younger." He shrugged. "Didn't really look too hard but she looked older, and I didn't recognise her." When Remy turned his eyes to Matt, the other boy shook his head. 

"Alrigh', well. We may contact you again fo' more questionin', but fo' now dat will be all." He turned to the officer who still stood guard. "Officer, will you see to it dat dese boys arrive at school?" When the officer nodded, he pointed a finger at both boys. "Now, it migh' have been some years since Remy was in high school, but he gets how t'ings work in dat place. You don' speak a word o' dis to anyone but yo' principal or yo' teachers when dey ask where you've been. Not a word to yo' friends, you understand? It'll be on de news soon enough, an' den – an' only den, an' only if we've released de info'mation dat two boys found her – can you say you were de ones who found her, if you even want to." He paused. "You got dat, boys?" 

"Yeah, course." Dave nodded. "I just wanna get out of here, man." 

"Me too. I won't say anything, sir." Remy smiled at the polite use of sir from the older boy, and gave them a nod. 

"Den you can go." As the officer led them away, Remy turned to Pietro, who was going back over his notes. "Dat older boy will probably go over dat moment in his mind a dozen times. Even if his friend was de one who saw her face, he's de one who stumbled on a dead body." 

"It does hit hard, the first time." Pietro agreed, tucking his notebook away. "I still remember my first dead body on the job. The uniform I was partnered with at the time threw up. I held it together, but it still hit hard." It hadn't been his first dead body in his life, of course, but that was an entirely different situation. "Do you still remember yours?" 

"Oh, oui." Remy murmured, and Pietro wished he could see his eyes when the tone of his voice shifted to something quieter than usual. "It was a child. Barely ten years old." There was a strain to his voice now, and Pietro could pick out the barest hint of anger. Children always hit harder than adults, he knew that well. "De fucker got away wit'out proper punishment, too. Went an' killed himself only minutes befo' we got to him. Sure he was dead an' all, couldn' hurt anyone else, but dat wasn' enough. How could Remy look her parents in de eye an' tell dem de son o' a bitch who took deir baby girl from dem wasn' gon' rot in a prison where dey eat child killers alive? Dat he got an easy way out? Dat de police failed to deliver de justice deir daughter deserved to have?" He reached up and pulled the shades from his face, his other hand sweeping through his hair in frustration. 

"Sometimes it never works out the way we want it to." Pietro did something he very rarely did – he reached out and put a hand on Remy's arm, initiating physical contact without any prompting from anyone else. Remy glanced down at the hand on his arm, and then lifted his eyes to meet Pietro's. Feeling a little embarrassed and awkward, Pietro even attempted to give him a smile – but managed little more than a slight quirk at one corner of his mouth.

"Lieutenant?" They'd managed to hook Jean for their ME yet again, and she stood beside the body, one hand raised to get their attention. Remy blinked, breaking the steady gaze with Pietro, and then he pushed the sunglasses back onto his face and strode over. 

"Got somet'in', cherie?" His charming smile back in place, Remy was himself again. Pietro studied him from where he stood, and then sighed and wandered over to see what it was Jean had found. 

"I spoke to Officer Pryde when I arrived on scene, and she'd been clever enough to get the shoe sizes of the boys – so I was able to mark out which prints are theirs. I'll have to confirm, of course, and the CSI team will be in touch to get their shoes to make accurate prints to match these, but for now…" She gestured to the scene. "The blue markers here are for Matthew's prints. The white ones are for David's." Remy studied the scene, and lifted an eyebrow. 

"An' de yellow ones?" 

"As yet unknown." She smiled. "Now for all we know they're unconnected to the crime. There hasn't been rain for a couple of days so the ground is fairly dry, but it's still damp enough down here beneath the trees that prints could linger for days if they're undisturbed." She moved around the scene, and Remy followed her, crouching beside the yellow markers. "I'd say there's an eighty-percent chance these prints belong to whoever dumped your victim here. They're deep, which implies weight, possibly from carrying the body." She crouched beside him. "CSI confirm." 

"Dey're fairly large prints, so we're probably lookin' fo' a man." He murmured, noticing in the corner of his eye that Pietro was making notes again. "Or a woman wit' big feet. It happens, so we can' rule dat out." He let his gaze move back to the body. "What can you tell us 'bout her?" 

"I'll be able to make an ID once I get her to the morgue. CSI went through her pockets but found nothing, but I noticed she has some scars on one knee that could be a sign she's had surgery to correct a problem. If there's any metal in there, it'll have an ID code, which will give me her name." She gestured to the head wound. "I'll confirm at the lab, but it looks like that's the cause of death. It's a nasty blow, most likely done with a blunt object." 

"What 'bout de ot'er injuries? Befo' or after de head wound?" 

"My guess is both. The facial lacerations imply either a fight, or she was dragged somewhere. I can determine which when I can get a better look at them, but they were definitely inflicted before death. The bruising patterns on her legs suggest she tripped, or walked into something – or was knocked. Again, I'd say they were inflicted before death." She straightened up, and Remy followed suit. "I can't give you much that isn't speculation for now."

"Got a rough idea o' when she died?" 

"Early morning, possibly before dawn. Again, I can give you a definite once I have her back at the morgue. Liver temp suggests she was dead just after one, but if she was left out here for a long time it could mess with the reading." She signalled to the CSIs, and they prepared the body for transport. Remy stepped back out of their way, and turned to Pietro. 

"Anot'er victim wit'out a name." He sighed. "An' no tellin' why she died." He glanced around the area, and frowned. "Don' suppose dey got cameras out here?" 

"Not in this particular area." Pietro brought out his handheld, and tapped out a command. "There are cameras around the basketball courts and the skate park, and a couple that monitor the paths at strategic locations. I can check the nearest cams, see how much of this area they catch." 

"Good, you do dat." Remy nodded. "Maybe we'll get lucky an' her killer will be strollin' along wit' her tossed over his shoulder." He shook his head a little, and sighed. "Doubt it, t'ough. Righ', Jean will do her t'ing back at de morgue an' she'll get us a name. If not, we'll get a snap o' her face after she's been cleaned up, see if de techs can reconstruct de image a lil' mo', an' we'll release it to de public." 

"I could check with missing persons, see if anyone's been reported missing that matches her description? Even if she's only been gone a few hours, some people call in because they're worried. Someone might have had a call like that when our Jane Doe didn't come home." Pietro put in, and Remy clapped him on the shoulder. 

"Chase dat up, an' de camera angle. Meanwhile, Remy's got a date wit' de Commander."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first case as partners, and the boys open up a little.

After briefing the Commander, Remy swung by the morgue whilst he left Pietro to check with missing persons, and run the camera angle. There was no point pulling him away from that when he could manage a morgue run by himself. When he stepped through the doors, he was greeted by an older man – and no sign of Miss Jean Grey. The man looked up, and smiled. 

"Ah. You must be Lieutenant LeBeau." He stepped over, and held out a hand. Remy took it, and shook it warmly. "Doctor Hank McCoy, Chief Medical Examiner." 

"Nice ta meet ya." Remy smiled. "Is Miss Grey around? She came in wit'-," 

"Ah, yes." Hank moved over to one of the tables, beckoning him to follow. "I took the liberty of working your Jane Doe, Lieutenant. I went over Jean's notes, and I checked out the left knee – she did indeed have surgery." He picked up a small glass jar, and held it up. "I ran the serial number, the ID code, on the side of these pins." 

"You got an ID?"

"Your unfortunate young lady is Miss Aerial Jenko. She's twenty-six, lives and works right here in Manhattan. She's a sales assistant." Hank gave a sad smile. "And a very healthy young woman. I found nothing on the tox screen that raises any alarms." He pulled back the sheet that covered her. "Cause of death is the blow to the head. Blunt instrument, I can confirm. She was struck from behind three to four times." 

"From behind? Damn." Remy sighed. "What else can you tell Remy, Doc?" 

"Bruising on her legs and back suggest a fall. My guess is she tripped, probably fell down some stairs, possibly caused by the first blow to her head." He circled the table, gestured to her face. "Facial lacerations were caused some time before death. Upon closer inspection, I deduced they were caused when someone grabbed at her – again from behind." 

"Dese were caused by someone's nails?" Remy's eyes narrowed. "So what… she goes down, den whoever knocked her down tries to grab fo' her – get her back on her feet?" 

"That area I shall leave to you, Lieutenant, but it is possible, yes." He nodded. "Time of death was two-fifty-two this morning." He paused, and sighed. "Lieutenant, she probably took some time to die. The head injury was severe, but not instantly fatal. Thankfully she would almost certainly have been unconscious, but it still took some time." 

"Time enough fo' her killer to t'row her in de back o' a car an' dump her in a park." Remy sighed. "Alrigh', t'anks Doc." 

"Woe, destruction, ruin and decay," Hank murmured as he studied the dead woman's face, "the worst is death, and death will have his day." When he caught Remy's raised eyebrows, he gave him a sad smile. "Shakespeare." 

"Oui. Remy knows it." He smiled back at the Chief ME. "Don' worry. Deat' migh' have his day, but so will justice. Remy'll make sure o' it." 

"I have no doubt of that, Lieutenant." They clasped hands over death, and then went their separate ways. When Remy returned to the station, Pietro wasn't at his desk, and so he simply walked on through to his own office. 

And found Captain Howlett in his chair. 

"Captain. Is dere somet'in' Remy can do fo' you?" He shed his coat, hanging it up as he spoke. If Logan was annoyed that he hadn't immediately snapped to attention in the presence of authority, he didn't let it show. But then, Remy mused, he always looked grumpy – so how would anyone tell? 

"The Commander informed me of the new partnership in my division." He studied the Cajun, eyes narrowed. "Why Maximoff?" 

"Remy already explained himself to de Commander, an' to Pietro. Why should he explain himself to you?" He met Logan's eyes in a challenge, and the other man rose to his feet. 

"I am your superior, LeBeau." He reminded Remy. "So you'll do as I ask, before I make it an order." 

"An' de Commander is yours." Remy pointed out. "So eit'er way, what does it matter?" Logan growled – actually growled – and stepped around the desk to get right up in Remy's personal space. The movement would probably have been more intimidating if he hadn't had to adjust his line of sight due to their height difference. Damn the Cajun for being nearly a whole damn foot taller than him. 

"It matters because I say it matters." He told him, his tone sharp.

"An' 'cause yo' t'ink it'll cause trouble fo' him." Remy smirked. The little shit actually _smirked_. "You t'ink Remy didn' t'ink o' dat? De only reason Remy chose Pietro is 'cause he's one o' de only few Detectives Remy can stand to work wit' fo' longer dan' a case." He shrugged. "He's good, he's got a sharp mind, an' he cares enough 'bout de people. Dey're not jus' cases to him. Dey matter." He raised an eyebrow. "Dat enough o' a reason fo' you?" Logan glared at him, but he stepped back a little. 

"Fine." 

"Yo' worried dat Remy's playin' a game here, dat he's jus' causin' trouble. Well you can stop worryin' Logan, 'cause dat ain' how Remy plays." He leant in closer, bending a little so their eyes were almost level. Logan wanted to punch him for it. "He didn' make it to Lieutenant by fuckin' wit' ot'er people. You migh' t'ink he's an idiot, a stupid Sout'erner who don' belong here, but Remy's a damn good cop." Now, he smiled. "An' he don' take kindly to people shovin' deir weight around t'inkin' dey can bully him." 

"So noted." Logan murmured coolly. "I don't take kindly to people messing with my division. You start messing, I start kicking your ass." 

"Remy would welcome de fight." They stared each other down for a moment, and then Logan broke the gaze and stepped around him.

"I'd put you on your ass in five seconds." He called as he left the office. Remy grinned to himself. 

"Yeah, like dat would happen." He murmured, turning just in time to see Logan disappear in the direction of his own office. _Damn, do dey put somet'in' in de water here?_ He thought, as he dropped into his chair and pulled up the case file. "Dis place is jus' full o' attractive cops." He scanned the file and smiled when he saw Pietro had made a note – no missing persons report filed for anyone matching her description. He assumed he was still investigating the camera angle, then. 

He updated the file with the information Hank had given him, and attached the official autopsy report to the file, and then he ran Aerial Jenko through the system to find out who she was, and who he'd have to call on to give the bad news. When Pietro stepped into his doorway five minutes later, he held up a finger to silence him before he could speak. 

"Aerial Jenko. Twenty-six." He told him, and Pietro stepped around the desk to look at the screen over his shoulder. She'd been pretty, very pretty, before someone had bashed her head in and clawed at her face. Tawny hair, thick and wavy, framed a soft face with delicate features, and deep green eyes. "Sales assistant in a clot'ing department store. Lives wit' Hannah Masters an' Georgia Baker." Pietro read the address, and raised his eyebrows.

"That's within walking distance of the park where we found her." Remy nodded, and handed Pietro a printout of the autopsy report. He scanned it quickly, taking in the key details. "So she walks away from her attacker, isn't expecting the first blow. She goes down, and I imagine she didn't get much chance to get back up again." 

"Non. Dis was rage." He brought up the photographs Hank had taken after she'd been stripped and cleaned. "Look at dat wound. Chief ME said she probably took some time to die, 'cause de wound itself wasn't immediately fatal. You hit someone dat many times wit' anyt'in', an' it would be pretty damn nasty. Could be de firs' hit wasn' planned – jus' happen out o' rage. Den she's down, an' de killer eit'er panics an' keeps swinging', or de anger jus' took over. Maybe dey realised after de first hit dat dere was no goin' back, so may as well finish de job." He pushed back from the desk, stood, and turned to his window. "From de angle, her attacker was taller. Not by much, but den she was wearin' heels, so dat would factor in."

"Records say she was about five-six." Pietro read aloud from the screen. "Add on the three or four inches from the shoes…" 

"Killer would have to be 'bout six foot, or close enough." Remy turned from the window, and gave a final look at Aerial's smiling face. "Let's go talk to de housemates, an' den we'll drop by de lab later an' see if dey can give us anyt'in' from de scene." 

"Yes, sir." 

\-- 

"Housemates work at the same department store." Pietro told him once they were in the car. "By this time, they should be at work."

"Den dat's where we'll go." He screeched around a corner, and sent a smirk in Pietro's direction with the detective actually squeaked. "You need Remy to hold yo' hand?" 

"Bite me." Pietro scowled, and Remy laughed. 

"Now, now, Detective. At least buy Remy dinner first." He dropped in a wink for extra effect, and Pietro immediately found the road rather interesting. Oh, it was fun to get under his skin like that. "You know where dis place is?" 

"What? Oh, sure." Pietro nodded. "Take a right at the next intersection." It was the first time Remy had ever asked him for directions. "Still finding your way around here?" 

"Partly." Remy nodded, taking the right Pietro had told him to. "Remy knows how to get to most places." He paused for some lights, and Pietro gave him a few more directions. "Jus' not everyt'in'. Not yet." 

"When I first decided I wanted to be a cop, I studied maps of the city for hours to try and memorise everything." Pietro told him. "We used to live out in Brooklyn Heights when I was a kid. We moved into this city when-," he caught himself at the last moment, "when my father got a promotion. So I made sure I knew the city. When I was still in uniform my partner just let me drive because I knew exactly where I was going and how to get there as fast as possible." 

"Well maybe if yo' a good boy, Remy'll let you drive one day." He grinned, pleased that Pietro had voluntarily shared something personal with him. He guessed it was down to their new partnership, and he was glad of it. He didn't want Pietro to close himself off, so he knew he had to volunteer something in return. "Remy knew de layout o' Nawlins as a kid. Used ta run around de streets all de time. Befo' he was ten he could run from one end o' de French Quarter to de ot'er blindfolded an' not lose his way once." 

"Take a left here." Pietro put in quickly, and Remy took the corner sharply. 

"Papa used to say dat Remy was born fo' de streets. He really wasn' surprised when Remy started patrollin' dem fo' a livin'." He grinned, pulling into a parking lot that Pietro directed him to. 

"Does he approve?" Pietro found himself asking as Remy found a space, and fished out the 'On Duty' sign. "Your father?" 

"Oui." Remy smiled warmly. "Proud as anyt'in'." He paused, glanced over. "Does yours?" Pietro almost laughed. 

"Well…" He sighed. "He doesn't disapprove, but sometimes I get the feeling he wishes I was better." 

"Pietro, Remy's only gon' say dis de once, an' he'll deny it if you try an' tell anyone, so don' bot'er." He leant in, his expression serious. "Yo' de best detective in Homicide, by a long shot. Sure de ot'ers got de skill, but you got natural talent, an' you got a real passion fo' it. So if yo' papa ain' happy wit' dat, den he's a moron." He leant back, and opened the door. "He'd have to be not to recognise a brilliant man when he sees one." He climbed out of the car, leaving Pietro to stare after him in surprise. 

He had to take a moment to force back the stupid grin that threatened to spread across his face, and to control the embarrassment he felt at both being complimented so honestly by Remy and by _liking_ it – and not just the typical pleasure of being complimented. No, he liked it in a way that made him feel almost _giddy_ and that was just _mortifying_. Composure gathered, he stepped out of the car and joined Remy. 

"Sir?" As Remy locked the car, he glanced over at him. "Thank you for that." Part of him wanted to point out that he'd just called the Commissioner a moron, but that would wait until Remy inevitably found out the truth.

"Fo' what, Detective?" Remy sent him a playful grin. "Remy didn' say anyt'in'." 

"Oh, right. Of course." Pietro actually laughed at that, as they walked towards the department store in question. "But still… thank you." Remy slung an arm around his shoulders, and smiled. 

"Yo' welcome, Pietro." The arm shifted as they entered the department store, and Remy stepped away from him as he walked up to the nearest counter manned by a member of staff.

"Hi, how can I help you?" Pietro watched the young woman's eyes travel the length of Remy's body, and nearly groaned as she immediately lifted a hand to fuss with her hair. 

"Lookin' fo' a lady." Remy _purred_ , leaning on the counter as he spoke. Pietro resisted the urge to kick him in the shin. That would be unprofessional. Instead, he stepped forward. 

"Georgia Baker, or Hannah Masters. Where can we find them?" To cut the flirting short before it had a chance to take off, he took his badge from his belt and laid is discreetly on the counter. The woman's eyes went to it immediately, and widened. 

"Oh, um. Sorry, officers." She fussed with her hair again, but this time it was out of nerves. Normally Pietro would correct her mistake, but he'd let it slide this time. "Are they in trouble?" 

"Non." Remy took over, voice smooth and calming. "We jus' need ta speak wit' dem 'bout somet'in'. Dey work here, oui?" 

"Yeah, yeah, um." She paused. "Georgia's on the third floor, in the children's section. Hannah works women's, but… I think she had to take the morning off." She shrugged, unsure. "I heard Georgia mention it in the break room before shift started."

"Merci, cherie." Remy gave her a bright smile that had her relaxing noticeably. He motioned to Pietro, and the two of them moved off towards the escalators that would take them up a floor. "So Aerial's out late, wit' some pretty nice shoes on, an' her housemate takes de mornin' off work." He murmured as they ascended. 

"You're thinking they went out last night?" Pietro questioned as they moved up through to the third floor. 

"Maybe. Or it could be unrelated. Guess we'll find out, eh?" They stepped out onto the shop floor, and immediately had to step out of the path of a child who tore down the aisle screeching at the top of its lungs. A flustered mother hurried after it, desperately calling its name. Remy watched them disappear around a shelf of kids shoes, and smiled. "Gotta love kids." Pietro perked up at that, noticing the fond smile. 

"You like kids?" There was a brief flicker of emotion on Remy's face, but it was gone in an instant – too soon for Pietro to determine what it had been. 

"Love 'em. When dey get past de squawkin', pukey stage dey can be real charmers." He grinned, glancing around at the bright colours of children's clothing. Pietro smiled, his mind drifting to the little girl he only got to have one weekend a month. "Shall we?" They spotted Georgia fairly easily – she was folding t-shirts for a display, her blonde hair twisted up into a high ponytail that bounced and swung as she moved, and as they got closer they could hear her singing along to the music that played through speakers dotted around the store. 

"Georgia Baker?" Pietro stepped forward, taking the lead. Georgia turned, and flashed them a winning smile. 

"Hi there! How can I help?"

"My partner and I-," Pietro began to reach for his badge, but Georgia held up a hand before he could. 

"Wait." She grinned, putting one hand on her hip as she studied them. "First-time fathers." She nodded to herself. "You have the look." She explained with another smile. "How old is your kid?" Taken by surprise, Pietro was speechless, and he glanced at Remy for help. Misinterpreting the look, Georgia laughed softly. "Are you getting a newborn, or adopting older?" 

"Adopting? We… we're not…" Pietro stammered. Remy grinned, and stepped in. 

"Dere's been a misunderstanding, Miss Baker." He reached for his badge, and saw her eyes widen before a hand came up to cover her mouth. 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Like, wow… I'm so embarrassed." She laughed it off. "When you said partner, I just assumed… we get a lot of couples in here who are first-time parents, of all orientations, so when someone says partner I automatically think…" She brought her hands to her face again. "I'm so sorry." 

"Lieutenant LeBeau. Dis is Detective Maximoff. Is dere somewhere we could talk fo' a few minutes?" He watched the shift in her body language – from friendly sales assistant ready to help, to cautious and suspicious. 

"We've got a break room, but I'm not due a break for another hour." She glanced at her watch as she spoke. 

"It's important, Miss Baker. If you need us to clear it wit' yo' boss…" 

"No, no. Uh. Hold on." She hurried to the counter and spoke to someone, and then hurried back to them. "Simone can cover the floor for five minutes. It's this way." She led them through to the break room, nerves rising. "So what's the problem?" 

"What makes you t'ink dere's a problem?" Remy asked, before Pietro could speak. Georgia sighed. 

"Okay, look. If my neighbour's made a noise complaint, I'll pay a fine or whatever – but you should know that he's _always_ complaining about _everything_. We weren't even that loud last night! He's like, against fun or something." Pietro made a mental note of that, and he imagined Remy had, too. 

"We're not here 'bout a complaint." This was it, Pietro thought. This was when it happened. "You share an apartment wit' Aerial Jenko, oui?" 

"Sure. There's three of us. It used to be just Aerial and Hannah, but after I split with my boyfriend I needed a place to stay so they offered their spare room to me." It took a moment, but realisation dawned on her. "Wait, you're here about Aerial? What's happened? Is she okay? Is she in trouble?" 

"Aerial Jenko was killed dis mornin'. We're sorry fo' yo' loss." Pietro had seen many different reactions to this news over the years – some got angry, some thought it was a joke, and some merely collapsed with the weight of it. Georgia, it seemed, was one of them. She staggered back, reaching blindly for the edge of a chair, and then she sank down onto it. 

"No. No, she…" She glanced up at Remy, her eyes already filling with tears. "You're sure?" He perched on the edge of the table beside the sofa, and nodded. 

"It's her. We need to ask you some questions, if dat's alrigh'?" When she nodded, he motioned to Pietro, who took out his notebook. "When was de last time you saw Aerial?" 

"Last night. Oh, god." She dropped her head into her hands for a moment, and then drew in a deep breath and lifted her head again. "We went out last night, the three of us. It was our girl's night out – we do it at least once a month, more if we have a reason to celebrate or something. We just hit a few clubs, had a lot to drink, and then staggered home." She shook her head a little. "Aerial doesn't drink, but she doesn't need to anyway. She gets caught up in the buzz, has a great time without alcohol."

"What time did you get home?" 

"Oh, god, I don't know… maybe around half-three, or closer to four. We were very drunk, which is why our neighbour complained. We were giggling and stuff as we tried to get through the door, because Hannah kept dropping the keys and then the two of us were falling over trying to pick them up." Pietro frowned a little. 

"Aerial wasn't with you?" 

"Oh." Georgia shook her head again. "No, she took off around two. She said she was going home, but…" 

"But?" Remy prompted. 

"Well see, she's been sorta seeing this guy for the past couple of weeks, and she got a text around two that lit up her face, so I knew it was from him. That's when she said she was going home, but we could tell she was going to see him. When she wasn't in her room this morning we just assumed she'd stayed over at his place." She brought a hand up to cover her mouth again. "Oh god. We joked about it. We… we laughed, saying maybe our girl finally got lucky, and we were gonna tease her about it at work… and all this time, she's been… she was…" 

"We need de name o' dis guy, Georgia." Remy reached out and put a hand on her arm. 

"Why? Oh." She frowned a little. "You think he did it." 

"It's somet'in' we have to investigate." Remy nodded. "De name?" 

"Oh, yeah, uh… Richie. Fuck," she hissed, and then looked apologetic, "sorry. I just… I can't remember his last name. Hannah would know." She gasped then. "Oh god, Hannah. She's at home – she was so hungover this morning that I told her to call in sick. I text her earlier when Aerial didn't show up for work, 'cause I thought that meant she was getting lucky again. I need to tell Hannah." 

"We can go wit' you, if you like?" Remy gave her a comforting smile. "We need to ask her some questions anyway." 

"Yeah, oh god. I… I have to go talk to my boss. I gotta go talk to…" She stood and hurried to the door, and Remy stood. 

"T'ink she's gon' go t'row up?" He asked, his tone soft and concerned. Pietro shook his head. 

"Not yet. That'll come later, when it all sinks in." They followed her out of the break room, and went back out onto the shop floor. A smile instantly lit up Remy's face when two little girls squealed with delight at the pretty dresses their mother was picking out for them. She seemed torn between two choices, and as there was no sign of Georgia, he stepped over. 

"Go wit' de pink." She looked up in surprise, and he gave her a bright grin. "It's a nicer shade dan de purple, an' it'll suit yo' girls colourin'." When she studied the pink dress, he went on. "Plus de pink looks mo' princess, which yo' girls certainly are." 

"You're right." She practically beamed at him. "The pink is nicer. Thanks." She selected two of the dress, and beckoned for the girls to follow her. "You have a daughter?" There it was again – the odd little flicker of emotion, again passing too quickly for Pietro to pin it down. 

"Jus' know dat lil' girls like to be princesses." He told her. "Except de ones who like to be princes, o' course." She laughed. 

"Well, thanks again." As she led the way to the checkout, Remy tucked his hands into his pockets and turned to Pietro. He opened his mouth to speak, but then saw Georgia hurrying back to them. 

"Ah, here she comes." 

"Sorry. I… my boss gave me the day off. I need to go, I need to see Hannah, I… oh god…" 

"Easy, Georgia." Pietro stepped up, gently took her by the arm. "Let's just get you home. Did you drive?" 

"Yeah. My car's in the lot, I… I can drive. I'll be fine. I just want to get home." Pietro nodded. 

"We'll follow you there." 

\-- 

Hannah was the type to get angry. Sat in the living room, she demanded they stop telling lies and to get the hell out – until Georgia took her hand and said only her name. Now the two women sat together on their sofa, clutching each other's hands for support. 

"Georgia told us Aerial was datin' a guy. Richie…?" Remy asked, and Hannah nodded. 

"Yeah. Richie Altman." She rubbed at eyes that shined with tears. "He didn't do it. He's a nice guy. He didn't even kiss her without asking first." 

"People can do horrible t'ings no matter how nice dey seem." Remy pointed out. "Eit'er way, we need to investigate him, even if he proves innocent. In a crime like dis, we look at friends, family an' lovers first, befo' we move on to strangers, even if we don' believe de loved ones had anyt'in' to do wit' it." He paused. "Would Aerial walk in Riverside Park at night?"

"What? No. She hated the park at night." Hannah shook her head. "Said it was full of creeps and weirdos just waiting to steal your bag or worse." Her eyes narrowed now. "Is that… is that where she was killed?" 

"It's where she was found this morning." Pietro told them. 

"Found." Georgia repeated. "You said found. So you… you think she was killed somewhere else?" Smart girl, Remy mused.

"We're investigatin' de possibility, oui." He nodded. "How did Aerial leave to go an' see Richie? Did she walk, get in a cab, take de subway?" 

"She called a cab. We stepped outside with her to wait, and we saw her get in. We went back inside once the cab pulled away." Hannah dragged a hand through her hair, and groaned a little. Still recovering from the hangover, then. "And if she was coming home, she'd have taken a cab. She didn't use the subway at night, and Richie's place is too far for her to walk." 

"Is dere anyone who might want to hurt her? Anyone she had trouble wit'?" When both girls shook their heads, he went on. "Did she have any trouble wit' ex-boyfriends, or at work?"

"No." Georgia sighed. "Everyone at work loved her. She was always friendly, never had a bad word to say about anyone. And as for boyfriends… well, it's been a while since her last one – before, Richie, I mean. And they ended it because they were just really good friends, there was no spark." 

"Well if you t'ink o' anyt'in', or anyone, you let us know." He handed them a card. "If you need one, we can arrange fo' a grief counsellor to speak wit' you." 

When they left the apartment, the girls were hugging each other as they cried into each other's shoulder. Remy stepped out onto the street and drew in a deep breath. Pietro said nothing, simply stood at his side and watched the city around them. 

"I'll check with the cab company, see where she was dropped off and what time." He said finally. "And do a run on the boyfriend, see if he's got a record, and get his address and place of work so we can track him down for questioning." When Remy still said nothing, he put his hands in his pockets. "I can contact the family." 

"Remy's primary." He murmured. "He should do it. You go on back to de station an' get started." 

"We're partners." Pietro shook his head, turning to him to offer him a smile. "Partners share the work." Remy returned his smile, and clapped a hand onto his shoulder. 

"Partners." He repeated, and from Remy's lips, and in that tone of voice, it sounded far more intimate. "Let's go den, partner." He moved to the car, and Pietro hesitated, his eyes tracing the long line of his legs as he slid behind the wheel. He swallowed thickly, and forced himself to focus. 

"Yes, sir."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro learns something new about Remy.

It was always worse for parents. 

Aerial's mother had opened the door to them, a bright smile on her face and flour in her hair and dusted over the apron she wore, and Pietro had smelled the scent of freshly baked cookies filtering in from the kitchen. She'd greeted them politely, only her eyes registering a flash of caution when she realised she didn't know the two men standing on her doorstep. The second they'd held up their badges, the smile had faded. 

"What's happened?" She demanded, though her tone was soft and still polite. "Has my Danny been shoplifting again? I thought we told him… we made him pay the fine. Oh, he had to work twice as hard around the house to earn the money for it but he paid it." She sighed, resigned. "What did he steal?" 

"Mrs Jenko, dis isn' 'bout Danny." Remy kept his voice even, and quiet – there were neighbours out in gardens or washing cars, and this was a private matter. "It's Aerial." 

"Aerial?" Now she looked confused. "Oh you must be mistaken, Aerial's a good girl. Never been in trouble, not even when she was at school." Pietro held back the wince, because he knew what came next and it wouldn't be pleasant. 

"We're sorry, Mrs Jenko, but…" He hesitated, and then sighed. "Aerial was killed dis mornin'." 

"No." The word snapped out instantly. "No, you're wrong. I… let me see that badge." She held out her hand, and Remy dutifully handed over his badge. She studied it, and then gasped. "No." She handed the badge back and looked hard at Remy. "I know that name." Surprised, Pietro glanced at Remy, whose face had hardened. "You… I know who you are. I know what you do." 

"Remy's sorry fo' yo' loss, Mrs Jenko, an' he's sorry dat he has to come to you like dis an' tell you dis horrible news." She staggered back, clutching the door for support. 

"My Aerial? She… how? How did…? Can I see her?" Remy stepped forward, and gently took her by the arm. 

"May we come in, Mrs Jenko? We need to ask you a few questions." When she nodded, he led the way inside. "Is dere someone else here? Or someone we can call fo' you?"

"No, I… my husband is at work, and Danny is at school – should be, anyway." Shock was keeping her going, Pietro knew. She'd collapse under the grief once the shock wore off. "And Zachary's away at college. Oh, god." Remy eased her down into a chair, and sat opposite her. "Please, tell me… tell me what happened to my baby girl."

"She was attacked, Mrs Jenko. We don' yet know who by, but we're followin' some leads an' Remy can assure you dat whoever did dis won' get away wit' it." He knew she'd want more details, but he was hesitant to tell a mother that her child had been bashed in the head and left to die in a bush. "Remy knows dis is difficult, but we need to know as much as we can. Girls tell deir mot'ers t'ings, righ'? Did Aerial say anyt'in' 'bout havin' trouble wit' anyone? Someone she was concerned 'bout?" 

"No, no… she never had trouble with anyone. She's kind, and helpful… always thinking about others before herself. She'd get off the bus three blocks away just to help an old woman carry her shopping." The grief was setting in now, Pietro could see it. Remy could see it, too. 

"How 'bout Remy gets you some water, or some tea?" When she nodded, he gave a nod to Pietro, and then he stood and went to fetch the tea. Pietro waited until he was out of the room before he spoke. 

"What about boyfriends?" He prompted, but she shook her head. 

"No, she… there's a new man in her life, but it hasn't been very long. Her friends would know more – Hannah and Georgia. Oh god, I have to tell them…" Pietro leant over and stopped her reaching for the phone. 

"They know, Mrs Jenko. The three of them went out last night, but it seems Aerial left early to see her boyfriend. We don't know yet what happened after she left them, but we're doing all we can to find out." He watched her glance towards the kitchen. "You recognised my partner, Lieutenant LeBeau, so I can only assume you know he's a solid cop."

"Zachary – my elder boy – he goes to college in Louisiana. Why he wanted to go that far from home I'll never know, but…" She shook her head a little, and sighed. "There was a big case down there a couple of years ago. I follow the news, just in case. Lots of college students were being killed, all across the state." Pietro nodded – he remembered hearing about it, though he hadn't caught much of it on the TV. "I got worried because Zach was down there, so I kept up to date with the case, and the Lieutenant was leading it. He was the one who took the killer down in the end, shot him but didn't kill him, and if I remember he took a bullet himself." She looked steadier now – the slight deviation of subject had helped focus her. "And then the lawyer who put the monster behind bars did a press conference after the court case, I remember because I insisted on watching it right to the end, and _his_ name was LeBeau, too." 

"The lawyer was a LeBeau?" Pietro asked – but before he got his answer, Remy came back in with a mug of tea. 

"Dose cookies smell amazing, Mrs Jenko." He smiled warmly, handing her the tea, which she took with a grateful smile. "Would you like us to call yo' husband?"

"No, no. I… I'll do it." She took a sip, and sighed sadly. "Will you… will you tell me, did she suffer?" 

"Non." Remy shook his head. "She didn'. She wasn' aware o' what was happenin' to her." Not with that head injury, anyway. Even if she'd been lucky enough to survive, there would almost certainly have been some brain damage. Chances were, Aerial would never be Aerial again either way. In those circumstances, Remy didn't know what was _worse_. "We can take you to see her, or you can call ahead when yo' ready an' we'll make it happen." 

"Thank you." She blinked, and now the tears shone in her eyes. "Is there anything else you need?" 

"Non, not at dis time, Mrs Jenko." He touched her arm, and gave her an apologetic smile. "We'll keep in touch, an' when we catch de bastard who hurt yo' girl, you'll be de firs' to know." 

"You'll catch them." She set the tea down and took Remy's hand in both of her own, her eyes fierce through the tears. "You didn't stop until that monster was caught, and you won't stop this time, either." 

"Yo' right, I won'." He promised her. Pietro blinked as he realised Remy had dropped his regular third-person speech pattern, and logged it away to ask about later. "You can call any time if you need anyt'in', even if it's just to talk." When they left the house, she was on the phone to her husband and telling him to come home as soon as he could. 

Pietro waited until they were in the car before he spoke, gathering his thoughts and trying to work out what he wanted to bring up first – the switch in speech pattern, or the lawyer Mrs Jenko had mentioned. In the end, he went with the lawyer. 

"She mentioned the case you worked in Louisiana – the serial murders of college kids all across the state." He said casually, flicking through his notes just to give his hands something to do as Remy raced across town like the lunatic Pietro was beginning to think he was. "I remember hearing about that. Didn't know it was yours, though." 

"Firs' kid to die was in Nawlins." Remy murmured, fingers tapping the wheel as they waited at some lights. "Remy was primary righ' from de beginnin'. He wasn' goin' to let dat case go, even when de bastard moved from place to place." 

"She also said you took a bullet taking him down." Pietro glanced sideways at him, watched as his fingers gripped the wheel. 

"Oui. Guy was a lousy shot." He said nothing more on that, and so Pietro figured he might as well just get to the heart of it. 

"The lawyer who slammed him in the cage in court was a LeBeau." He turned to look at him properly now. "Any connection?" To his surprise, Remy grinned.

"Ah, oui. Dat was Remy's papa." He gunned the engine as soon as the lights changed, but Pietro barely noticed. 

"Your father? He's a lawyer, then?" The information would, of course, have been in Remy's file – but Pietro didn't feel right doing a run on his superior. It was a bit too much like stalking. 

"Prosecutin' attorney." Pietro could hear the pride in his voice, and smiled. He could tell, just from the way Remy spoke, that father and son had a close bond. _That must be nice_. "Quite high profile, too. Papa's money put Remy t'rough college. He's good at what he does, an' he's de firs' name most people ask fo'." He swung the car around in the direction of the station, actually sending a rude gesture out of the window at another vehicle. Pietro rolled his eyes. _Damn southern cops_. "Surprised you didn' make de connection. You've heard o' him, righ'?"

"I…" He hadn't, of course. New York was a long way from New Orleans, and although he kept as up to date with the country's news as best he could, he didn't always get everything. "No, not exactly…" He felt guilty for saying it, mostly because Remy seemed so sure that he would have. 

"Oh, well… s'pose dat's expected, considerin' he works in anot'er state." Remy didn't seem offended, however, which was a relief. "Dere was one case, t'ough, where anot'er state asked fo' him by name. It was a bit o' a shitstorm in de media 'cause dere were people arguin' dat it wasn' his jurisdiction or some bullshit, but hey – he did de job an' got de sentence de cops were hopin' for, so people shut up after dat."

"Sounds like he's pretty good, yeah." Pietro laughed a little, wondering when he'd started to feel so relaxed around him – especially in the deathtrap he liked to call a car. "Is that why you went into law yourself?" 

"Partly. Remy was already t'inkin' o' goin' dat route when he went to college, but…" He paused, and took a moment. "But he didn' set his heart on police work until he lost his brot'er." He fell silent as they pulled into the station garage, and then he sighed as he cut the engine. "Dat's why Remy fights so hard wit' each case. No one fought fo' my brot'er." And there it was again – the switch to first-person. Curious. 

"What… what happened?" Remy reached up and removed his sunglasses, fingers dragging through his hair. 

"Dat's a story fo' anot'er time, Pietro." He murmured after another hesitation. "We got work to do." 

"Right. Of course. Sorry." He hurried from the car, relieved when Remy sent him a smile as he did the same. 

"Maybe he'll tell you over a drink or five." He grinned, his hand coming up to rest between Pietro's shoulders as they walked towards the elevator. Pietro, guarding his words for now, said nothing to that. He didn't handle alcohol well – he had a fast metabolism so he burned it off fast, which meant he ended up drinking far too much. Plus, alcohol loosened his tongue. He couldn't be sure he wouldn't say something stupid or mortifying and then never be able to face the Lieutenant again. 

\-- 

Once they had the boyfriend's information, they dropped by to pay him a visit – he was at home, and had apparently been asleep despite the late hour of the day. The interview proved fruitless – Aerial had never been to his place, not last night nor any other night, and his reaction to the news of her death struck Pietro as genuine. Frustrated that the case wouldn't prove to be that simple, he started work on contacting the cab company as soon as they returned to confirm that Aerial hadn't gone over there, checking Richie's alibi at the same time. 

Altman had been at work – a night shift as a doorman for a hotel – during the time frame in which Aerial had been attacked and killed. The cab company confirmed that a driver had taken a fare from the club the girls had been at, and a quick check in the log told them that Aerial had, in fact, been heading for home. 

"I don't get it. If she was going home, how did she end up getting attacked and dumped in the park?" He murmured aloud. 

"Dat's what we gotta find out." He turned, surprised to see Remy standing at his shoulder – he'd been so engrossed in his work that he hadn't heard him approach. "Did you check de cameras from de park?" 

"Yeah, I got the layout of the cameras nearest to the scene, and one catches the path alongside the skate park, but it just misses our scene. If the killer walked by that way, we might catch him, but it's a long shot. He could have come from any direction, and if he knew the park he'd know about the cameras, so he'd try to avoid them." Now he was even more frustrated. He knew cases were almost never simple, but that didn't stop him wishing they were. 

"Yo' assumin' de killer is male." Remy shifted, eased a hip up onto Pietro's desk as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

"You don't think we're looking for a man?" Pietro frowned. "CSI puts the unknown boot prints – and they've confirmed the other prints as belonging to the boys – at a size ten and a half. That's fairly large, even for a tall woman." He shrugged. "I know there are ladies out there who have feet on the larger side, but there are other factors. We can rule out height as a defining factor since there are plenty of women six feet and over." He paused, collecting his thoughts so they'd at least come out coherent. "The rage of the attack. It's more commonly a male thing. The viciousness of the attack… I can't see a woman doing it." 

"Yo' definitely never been to Nawlins." Remy smirked. Pietro failed to bite back his laugh. 

"Hey, I'm not saying women don't have it in them. My sisters are both terrifying when they're pissed off, and I wouldn't cross them even if my life depended on it, but… something just feels off about putting a woman in this scenario." Pietro paused, and then sat back, mirroring Remy's pose. "Why do you think it is?"

"Remy t'inks o' everyt'in'." Remy grinned. "It's true, typically women go for somet'in' dat doesn't include a physical attack. Poison has been known to be a female met'od o' killin' fo' a long time, but it's no less vicious dan what was done to Aerial. In fact, wit' de righ' poison, it's worse." Pietro nodded – he had a fair point there. "De marks on her face. Dey were made by nails, clawin' at her. It's an awful stereotype dat Remy don' 'xactly believe in, but Remy's seen de scratches left by ladies a number o' times, an' dat's de firs' t'ing he t'ought o' when he saw dem." He shrugged. "Doctor McCoy migh' be able to give us mo' if we ask de righ' questions." When he paused and snickered a little to himself, Pietro frowned. 

"What's funny?" Remy grinned.

"Doctor McCoy." When Pietro gave him a blank stare, he raised his eyebrows. "Bones? Star Trek?" Pietro averted his eyes, and then spread his hands in a gesture that said 'sorry, no idea what the hell you're talking about'. "Don' you sit dere an' tell Remy you don' know Star Trek." 

"Never seen it." Pietro shrugged. "I don't really have time for fantasy stuff."

"It's Sci-fi." Remy corrected. Pietro raised an eyebrow. 

"What's the difference?" He could tell he'd said something wrong by the way Remy's expression shifted, and he stared at Pietro like he'd just grown an extra head. 

"What's de difference?" He repeated. "Sci-fi is… spaceships an' aliens an' robots!" He told him, in a tone that suggested not knowing that was a crime. "Fantasy is like… elves an' wizards an' magic, Lord o' de Rings stuff." 

"Oh. Right." Pietro shrugged again. "Haven't seen that, either." Remy stared at him for a long time, and then shook his head. 

"Remy don' even know how to talk ta you." He glanced over at the other desks, and grinned. "Ey, Jubilee." She looked up when he called, and grinned back at him. "You've seen Star Trek, righ'?" Jubilee immediately lifted one hand, making a sign with her fingers spread – two fingers pressed together on either side. Pietro had only a vague idea of what the hell it was, but he assumed it was a Star Trek thing. 

"Live long and prosper, Captain!" Remy laughed, and made a gun with the fingers of one hand.

"Set phasers to stun, Commander." He called back to her. Pietro glanced at them in turn, and then rolled his eyes. 

"I'm surrounded by nerds." He murmured. "Lieutenant? If we could perhaps get back to work?" Remy waved a hand at Pietro, still looking over at Jubilee. 

"What do you reckon, Jubilee? T'ink Pietro's Spock?" She laughed, and Pietro scowled. 

"Oh, definitely." She agreed. "In that case, I call dibs on Uhura." She sent Remy a sly look. "And what would that make you, Lieutenant?" 

"Please." He sent her a wink in return. "Remy's definitely Captain Kirk." He laid a hand on Pietro's shoulder as he spoke, and Jubilee barely restrained her grin. Pietro decided to ignore them and actually do some work, especially since they no longer had any leads and were at a loss at to how Aerial ended up dead in the park after getting into the cab. 

He'd thought about the driver being the killer, but at Aerial's time of death – even taking into account that she hadn't died immediately – the driver in question was taking another passenger to JFK for a flight. They had nothing. He barely noticed when Remy pushed up off his desk and wandered over to talk with Jubilee, focusing on going through the feed from the park's cameras on the off chance that they could catch a break and get the killer on camera. 

When Remy laid a hand on his shoulder, he was engrossed enough to be startled for a second time. 

"Find anyt'in'?" When he shook his head, Remy reached over and switched off the monitor. "Go home, Pietro." 

"Go home? But it's only-," he broke off as he glanced at the time. Jeez, how had he missed two hours? 

"End o' shift. We've got not'in' new, an' if we keep going like dis, we're jus' gon' get tired an' frustrated. So go home, get some sleep, an' we'll look at dis wit' fresh eyes in de mornin'." Remy wasn't going to argue, Pietro could see that now – and besides, he was right. His eyes hurt from the strain of staring so intently at the screen, and his spine was beginning to complain from being hunched over his desk for two solid hours. 

"You're right." He murmured, shutting down the computer with a sigh. "Guess I'll see you in the morning, Lieutenant." He tugged on his coat, and glanced back at Remy who stood with hands in his pockets. 

"You certainly will, Detective." He gave Pietro a nod, and then smiled. "Sleep well, partner." Telling himself not to read too much into the way Remy insisted on purring out that word, Pietro hurried to the elevator, and prepared himself for the questioning his father would subject him to once he got home. 

Remy waited until he stepped into the elevator, and then he slipped back into his office and shut the door, dropping down behind his desk as he brought the file back up onto the screen. Like Pietro, he was frustrated that their only lead turned out to be nothing, and he was determined to find something they could work on. He considered the possibility that it was a random attack, that Aerial had been killed by a complete stranger, but he doubted that was the case. This felt personal. 

He knew what random attacks looked like. He'd stood over enough dead bodies in his time, studied the victims of random assault, and he knew when something was personal. If he tried, he could still see his brother's body, lying on the cold table in the morgue, his skin too pale, his hair lank and lifeless – and although they'd tried to hide the worst of his injuries, there wasn't much they could do. 

That had been personal. 

Forcing his mind away from such dark memories, he scrubbed at his face and sat up, going back over the case notes to see if anything jumped out at him. The friends were alibied – he'd made a few calls of his own whilst Pietro had worked, and the girls had been busy ordering drinks on Hannah's card at the time of Aerial's attack and subsequent death. He hadn't suspected them, of course, but as he'd told Pietro, he thought of everything, and every angle had to be eliminated. The boyfriend had a solid alibi too, and that had been pure, genuine shock and grief when they'd told him Aerial was dead. 

He'd ask around other friends, maybe talk to the brothers just in case Aerial had told them something she hadn't mentioned to anyone else – and the father, too. He'd talk to her goddamn great-aunt thrice removed if it meant he got a lead to follow. This just didn't feel random to him – someone she knew had attacked her, had killed her, and he'd damn well find out who it was. 

He didn't know how long he studied the file, the cameras from the park, the records from the interviews, but one moment he was reading back through the notes Pietro had made with Georgia's initial interview, and the next someone was shaking him awake. 

"Hey, bub." He recognised the gruff growl before he even opened his eyes. Logan. "The hell are you still doing here?" Groggy and not quite with it, Remy lifted his head from where he'd apparently rested it on the desk, and rubbed at his face. 

"Workin'." Remy murmured, his voice rough. 

"Where's Pietro?" Logan watched the Cajun as he flopped back in his chair, studying the tired face. He knew the look of someone who worked themselves to the bone – hell, he was one of them, after all. Remy, he knew, was thirty years old, but right now he looked several years older. It wasn't right. 

"Left at end o' shift. He sat starin' at his screen fo' two straight hours tryin' to find somet'in' fo' us to work wit'." Remy shook his head. "So Remy made him go home."

"And then you came back here and what, stared at your screen until you fell asleep at your desk?" Logan drawled, raising an eyebrow. "C'mon, Cajun. Take some of your own advice and get the hell home to sleep." When Remy hesitated, Logan stepped closer and hauled him up out of the chair. "That wasn't a suggestion, LeBeau. That was an order from your superior. You'll be no good to this girl if you work yourself to exhaustion. Go home, get some sleep, and shut it down for a few hours." Remy didn't fight him, even though he could if he wanted to. He grabbed his coat, suppressing a yawn even as Logan shut down his computer. "I don't want you here before eight. You step foot in this building even a minute before then and I'll send you down to Archives to do grunt work for the day." 

"Honestly, Logan?" Remy murmured, tugging his coat on and fishing in the pocket for his car keys. "Remy'd be surprised if he even woke up befo' eight." He gave the Captain a lazy grin that had Logan rolling his eyes and giving him an encouraging shove towards the door. 

"Get out of here, Cajun." He hesitated, studying the state of him. "You alright to drive?" 

"Oui." He paused, and grinned again. "Pietro migh' disagree if you asked him, t'ough. He makes some o' de funniest sounds when Remy takes a corner too fast." He lifted a hand in a wave as he headed for the elevator, leaving Logan to watch him leave. 

"Is that so?" He murmured to himself. He hadn't missed the fondness in Remy's voice, nor the way his grin had seemed so much more genuine than the one before. Although he had his concerns over the partnership – and he could admit that it was mostly irrational over-protectiveness towards a young man he thought of as a nephew – he could see now that maybe he'd been wrong to be worried. Whatever his reasons, Remy was definitely fond of Pietro, and though he'd be watching closely Logan wasn't going to interfere. It was about time the kid had a friend on the job – besides Jubilee, of course. 

\--

When Remy stepped into his apartment, he was immediately greeted by the three felines who owned him, all of them winding around his legs as they yowled at him, demanding food or attention or both. He took off his coat, and then he bent and scooped up Oliver, heading for the kitchen even as Lucifer took a running leap and launched himself onto his shoulder. Figaro bounded ahead of him, and was perched on the counter when he finally stepped into the kitchen. 

"Sorry, kitties." He murmured as he set Oliver down and opened a cupboard to get the cat food. "Late night tonight." Lucifer purred and headbutted his jaw, and Remy smiled, reaching up with one hand to scratch him under the chin. "You know how it is." He set down the bowls of food, grinning when they all immediately pounced on it, and he moved to the fridge to grab a can of soda. "Pietro accepted, y'know. We're officially partners." He cracked open the can, and knocked back a few mouthfuls. The cool liquid helped to wake him up, and he ran the cold can across his forehead as he felt the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes. "T'ough we're gon' have to deal wit' his incredible lack o' nerdiness." When the cats all lifted their heads to look at him, he grinned. "Oh yeah, Remy knows. He's never even seen _Star Trek_." He laughed when Lucifer yowled, and then he left them to their dinner. 

He wandered through the apartment, contemplating putting the TV on for an hour or so to wind down, but he knew he'd never be able to completely shut down the case in his mind. Instead, he changed direction and went instead to his bedroom, setting the sofa down on his bedside table before he dropped facedown on the bed. He groaned and rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling as he lay in the dark in silence. He lay there for several long minutes, trying to shut his mind down and let himself shift from work to home, but it just wasn't happening. He stood, shuffling into the en-suite bathroom, one hand reaching for the light. As it blinked on, he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor, stepping up towards the sink, intending to splash cool water on his face. 

He paused in front of the mirror, his eyes finding the scar buried beneath the swirling ink of a tattoo. If a stranger looked, all they'd see was the ink, but Remy knew better. He brought a hand up, and closed his eyes as he remembered the fire that tore through his flesh, and the bullet that had lodged itself in his shoulder. As far as gunshot wounds went, it was fairly minor, but _god_ had it hurt. As soon as the scar had healed sufficiently, he'd had it tattooed over. 

"Hide yo' scars so no one seems dem." He murmured, his eyes tracing the intricate sleeve tattoo that spread along his left arm from shoulder to wrist. He smiled as he remembered how Pietro's eyes had studied the lower half, and found himself wondering what the detective would make of the rest of it. 

And of his other tattoos. 

Of course, he'd have to be naked for Pietro to see them all, and didn't _that_ generate some wonderful images in his head? Feeling a little more relaxed already, he splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth while he was stood there – and then he kicked off his boots and his jeans, and dropped back onto his bed with a satisfied sigh. 

Pietro was still a bit of a mystery to him. The man was obviously concealing his sexuality, and wanted to know why. He'd have to be blind not to see that there was attraction between them, and Pietro wasn't letting himself experiment with it, which was definitely curious. He'd wanted so badly to kiss him that one time in the firing range, and he'd thought it might actually happen – but then Pietro had pushed him away, and he'd run. 

"Well, Remy ain' gon' let him get away dat easy." He said aloud as Oliver hopped up onto his bed. "Not unless he gets a firm no." He reached out, smiling when Oliver nuzzled into his hand with a happy purr. "Somet'in' tells Remy dat it won' happen dat way. Can' say he'll get a yes, eit'er, o' course. But… we'll see." He shifted, and slipped between the sheets just as Lucifer and Figaro joined Oliver on the bed. 

He spread out comfortably, reaching to set his alarm for the morning, and then settled down for sleep. Figaro immediately sprawled over his feet, Lucifer took up residence at his back, and – yup, Oliver curled up on his head. Remy closed his eyes with a grin. 

"Better hope he likes cats, eh?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are moving forward - or are they taking a step back?

Remy jerked awake to the sound of his phone. 

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck." He murmured, pushing himself up as he reached blindly for it. The room was still pitch black, which meant it wasn't even dawn yet. Fantastic. His fingers found his phone and barely glanced at the display before he answered. "LeBeau." He listened to the voice on the other end, and resisted the urge to groan. "Righ'. Got it. Be dere in ten. Contact Detective Maximoff an' tell him to be dere." He cut the call and flopped back onto his bed for a moment. Oliver, disturbed from his position curled up in his hair, pawed at his face. "Yeah, yeah. Remy'll make it up to ya later. Gotta go stand over a dead body again." 

He pushed up, all three cats making sounds of protest before curling up in the warm space he'd left behind. He dragged a hand through his hair as he stepped into the bathroom, splashing some water on his face in an attempt to wake himself up. He glanced at the time as he pulled on a loose pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and winced. Two in the morning. Wonderful. He'd had about three hours of sleep – if that. He bent to pet each of his cats in turn, and then grabbed his phone and his keys and headed for the door. 

Pietro was already at the scene when he got there, looking a lot more put-together than he was. He was even dressed in one of his sharp suits, not a hair out of place. Remy shook his head a little, amazed, and then focused on the job. 

"Anot'er one." He murmured as he stepped up beside him. Pietro nodded. 

"Same park, and from what the first-on-scene tells me, same MO." They stood for a moment at the edge of the scene, watching as the CSI team poked around, taking photographs of everything and collecting samples and fibres from anything they considered relevant. "ME's en route." 

"Didn' t'ink it was a stranger." Remy sighed. "It felt personal. Maybe it still is. Even if dis is connected… maybe dey knew each ot'er. Let's find out." They stepped across the scene, avoiding any areas the CSIs had marked out, until they stood beside the body of a young woman. Red hair this time, cut short and spiky, almost the same colour as the blood that decorated one side of her face. "Head injury, blunt instrument. No facial lacerations on dis one, t'ough." One of the CSIs turned, and held out an evidence bag containing a driver's license.

"Got an ID for you, Lieutenant. We haven't found a phone or a bag or anything, but this was tucked into her boot." He took the evidence bag, and turned to hold the ID under the nearest light source. 

"Zoe Kingston." He read out, and Pietro pulled out his handheld to run the name. "Twenty-four." 

"Shit." Pietro murmured. "She lives in the same building as Aerial. There's no way this is coincidence, sir." 

"Where does she work?" 

"She's a waitress, Italian restaurant." Pietro told him. "No connection to the department store, so we can rule that out." He turned in the direction of the building both women had lived in. "If they are connected – and I'd be surprised if they're not – then someone's picking women from that building. But why?" 

"Dat's what we have to find out, Pietro." They both turned as the ME arrived on scene – not Jean, and not Hank, either. The young man bent over the body, studied the injuries, and then checked time of death. "TOD?" 

"Barely an hour ago." He told them. "It comes in at one-twelve." He stood, studying the body again. "Cause of death is the blow to the head. We'll determine more back at the morgue." 

"Tag Doctor McCoy." Remy ordered. "He worked Jenko, Remy wants him to work Kingston." The ME nodded, and stepped away as he pulled out his phone. "She live wit' anyone, Pietro?"

"No, sir. She's in a one-bed, no cohabitants on record." He scanned the information again. "Family lives out in Queens, father and younger sister. Mother died two years ago." 

"Well, looks like we're gon' ruin deir night." Remy sighed. "Dere's not'in' we can get from dis scene dat de CSIs haven' already got, an' dey'll be takin' her to McCoy as soon as de scene is cleared." He turned on the spot, studying their surroundings. "Same type o' location – tried to hide her amongst de green, far enough away from a pat' so she wouldn' be seen too clearly. Not too far from de firs' scene, but she was found a lot faster here. Speakin' o', who found her?" 

"A couple of guys." Pietro nodded over to two young men standing with a uniform. One of them looked sickly and pale, whilst the other had an arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders as he spoke to the uniform. "They called it in right away, didn't touch anything." 

"Let's go talk to dem." They moved towards them as a unit, and the uniform turned to give them a nod in greeting. "Ah, Officer Rasputin. You were firs' on scene?" 

"Yes, sir. This is Oliver Trent and Vahn Barrow. They found the body, sir." Remy nodded, and held up his badge. 

"Lieutenant Remy LeBeau. Dis is Detective Maximoff." He decided to start with Vahn, as Oliver looked about ready to faint at any moment. "Why don' you tell us what happened?" 

"We… we didn't see her straight away. It was so dark, but then the light caught on something – maybe the buckle of her boot or something, I don't know, but we turned and… and there she was. Just lying there. I stepped closer but I could see she was dead. Her eyes were just open and staring and when I used the flashlight on my phone I saw the blood. That's when I called the cops." Vahn told him. Pietro made notes hurriedly, glancing at Oliver and how he leant further into Vahn as he spoke. Remy had noticed, too. 

"It's a bit late fo' a stroll, gentlemen." He murmured, his tone casual. "An' a bit dark. Why didn' you stick to de pat'?" He caught the nervous look, and resisted the urge to smile. "It's against de law to have sexual relations in a public place, y'know." 

"We… we weren't, I mean… we were just-,"

"Relax, Mr Barrow. Luckily fo' you, we don' care 'bout dat. But what we do care 'bout is details. So de two o' you are gon' go back to de beginnin', an' tell us everyt'in' dat happened, every lil' detail, even if you don' t'ink it matters." This time, it was Oliver who spoke. 

"We've been out, with a few friends. We've been drinking, so we were a bit… playful, y'know? And the park is pretty much empty at this time of night, so we just… it was harmless, we thought. No one would know. So we ducked into the bushes, figured we'd just play around a little by the trees. Nothing… nothing more, I swear." He swallowed thickly, blushing a little. "So we weren't really paying much attention. I… I backed Vahn up against a tree, and that's when he said…" 

"I said I thought someone was already here, because I could see the light glinting off something, like I said. I thought maybe someone else had had the same idea, or… which is why I got out my phone. I figured if it looked like we were just passing through as a short cut, it'd be less embarrassing." Vahn went on. Oliver nodded. 

"But then we saw the blood, and her eyes… god, I think I'm gonna be sick." He bent over a little, and Vahn rubbed a hand up his back. 

"You're not going to be sick, Ollie." He murmured soothingly. "It's just shock." He looked back up at them. "I knew we shouldn't touch anything. That's what they're always saying on cop shows, right? So I pulled Ollie out of there and dialled 911." 

"You live around here?" Vahn nodded. "Did you recognise her?" 

"I didn't really get a good look. I didn't… I didn't want to look too close, not after I knew she was dead." Vahn shook his head, and Remy nodded at Pietro, who brought up her ID photo on his handheld. 

"Recognise her now?" 

"Maybe. I see a lot of people around here, but I'm terrible with names." He nudged Ollie gently. "Hey, Ollie, does she look familiar?" Oliver lifted his head, and looked at the image. 

"Sorta. Uh… Chloe… no, wait, not Chloe. Zoe." He nodded a little. "Yeah, Zoe. She's in our building. I gave her a hand when she moved in." He paled even more, if it was possible. "Oh god, she's dead. I knew her, and she's dead." Vahn pulled him close, and gave them a pleading look. 

"If you leave yo' contact details wit' Officer Rasputin, you can head on home. We may need to question you again at a later date, but fo' now, dat's all we need." He hesitated, and then smiled. "Take him home, an' try not to t'ink 'bout dis. An' no more fun in de park after dark, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah okay. Thanks." Vahn nodded. Remy turned, and strode back to the scene, Pietro at his side.

"How did you know they were going to, ah… well…" Pietro gestured, and Remy grinned. 

"Had it written all over deir faces. Remy knows de look. Besides… he's been dere." Pietro stopped short, and stared at him. "What?" 

"You've had sex in a public park?!" He hissed. "That's against-," 

"De law, oui." Remy smirked. "You want to arrest Remy, Detective?" He even held out his wrists as though ready to be cuffed. "Not too tight, t'ough. Not unless you ask fo' his safe word firs'." Pietro forced back the flush creeping up from under his collar. 

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction." He huffed, turning away and striding back to the scene. Remy watched him go, shamelessly enjoying the long line of him. 

"Oh, Remy's sure you would, Pietro." He murmured to himself, before striding after him. The ME was loading Zoe into the vehicle to take her back to the morgue, and the CSIs were doing a final sweep of the scene. "You got de address fo' de family?" At Pietro's nod, he turned away from the scene. "Den let's go tell dem de bad news." He waited until they were in the car before he glanced over at Pietro, and smirked. "So you've never broken de law?" 

"Of course not." Pietro frowned, straightening his shoulders. 

"Not even a lil' underage drinkin' at a party? Smokin' weed behind de bike sheds at school? Skippin' class to go hang out at de mall wit' friends?" He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Not even a bit o' graffiti?" 

"No." Pietro shook his head firmly. "Not once." He narrowed his eyes. "But you've done all of that, haven't you?" 

"Believe it or not, Pietro, but Remy was a teenager once. Teenagers like to bend de rules." He waited at the lights, taking the drive slow instead of his usual perilous racing style. "Technically he was havin' sex long befo' de legal age." Now he smiled slyly. "You can' sit dere an' dell Remy you didn' do de same." When Pietro said nothing, Remy grinned. "Knew it. Knew you got some bad boy in dere, Pietro." He tapped his fingers on the wheel, watching the lights. "How old were ya?" 

"I'm not going to tell you that. That's private, and personal." 

"Remy was fourteen." He paused. "Or wait… was it t'irteen?" Pietro turned to him, jaw hanging open before he remembered to close his mouth. "Oh, wait, non. Remy remembers. It was his fourteent' birt'day." He grinned. "So, arguably, it was bot'." When Pietro continued to stare at him, he laughed. "She was sixteen, an' she was beautiful. So… how old were you?" 

"I'm not having this conversation with you." Pietro shook his head. "The lights have changed, Lieutenant." Remy took the corner onto the road they needed, and grinned. 

"C'mon, Pietro. We're partners. Partners share t'ings." He reached over, and nudged Pietro with one elbow. "Remy told you his." 

"Yes, but I didn't ask." Pietro pointed out, but he sighed. He knew Remy would never let it drop, and he didn't want to risk him going to anyone else and asking if _they_ knew. That would just be horrifically embarrassing. "… I was sixteen." _And it had been with a guy, but you don't need to know that part_. 

"Well, dat's not bad." Remy teased, sending him a wink. "So how come you didn' bend mo' rules as a kid?" 

"It may surprise you but not everyone feels the need to break laws in their youth." Not to mention his father had drilled the law into him enough times to ensure he didn't even consider stepping over the line. Well… he'd been tempted sometimes, yes, but he'd never actually _done_ it. "Take a left here, sir." 

"You always handed in yo' homework on time, didn' you?" Remy grinned, and Pietro rolled his eyes. 

"Oh, let me guess, you were the kid at the back of the class always making jokes and disrupting the lesson, huh? Probably drove a motorbike to school and kept getting detention for smoking on school grounds." Pietro shot back. Remy laughed. 

"Yo' righ' 'bout de motorbike an' de smokin' – t'ough not 'bout de detention, 'cause Remy never got caught." He winked again. "Were you captain o' de chess club?" 

"No. Were you the varsity quarterback who slept with all the rally girls and cheerleaders?" Pietro had expected his tone to come out quite harsh, but instead he was surprised to find it was only lightly teasing. It surprised him more to find that he was actually enjoying the banter. 

"Yes to de cheerleaders." Remy laughed, turning in the direction of the street the Kingston family lived on. "No to de quarterback." He pulled the car to a stop, and cut the engine. "T'ough he did sleep wit' him, too." Pietro stared, momentarily speechless, as Remy climbed out of the car. He laughed a little to himself before joining him on the street. "Well… here we go, Pietro. Anot'er day, anot'er life, anot'er family 'bout to have de worst day o' deir lives." 

\-- 

They left the Kingston house with heavy hearts. The father had wept like a child, the daughter having to hold him up and keep him strong whilst they asked the necessary questions. They were silent for the first couple of minutes, and then Pietro gave a sigh. 

"Lost his wife, then his eldest." He murmured. "Now she's all he has left. I hate this part of the job." 

"Oui. Remy does too." His mind went back to how his father had held himself together for the police, how he'd answered their questions and given them any information he could, how he'd thanked them as they'd left – and then how he'd collapsed against the door and slid down to the floor only a second later. He'd been the one who stood over Henri's lifeless body to confirm the ID, he'd been the one who'd steered his father – usually a solid pillar of strength in dark times – away from the crowds at the funeral. He'd been the one who'd coaxed his father out of bed and away from the bottle. He imagined Jenny Kingston was going to have to hold her father up for some time. 

"If anything happened to my sisters, my father would be the same." Pietro murmured, not quite realising he'd spoken aloud until Remy glanced over at him. "We lost my mother. I… sorry, I'm projecting my family onto theirs. I shouldn't." 

"Non. Remy was doin' de same, actually." He admitted to Pietro's surprise. "My fat'er barely held it toget'er when de police came to tell us my brot'er was dead. It was jus' de t'ree o' us, always had been. Den suddenly… it was jus' de two o' us." He paused. "How'd it happen?" 

"She was sick. Very sick." Pietro felt a stab of pain in his chest – god, it still hurt so much, even after all these years. "There was nothing we could do." He laughed, bitter. "I still don't know what's worse – watching someone you love die knowing you can't do a thing to stop it, or having them suddenly ripped out of your life without warning." 

"Dey're 'bout equal, Remy t'inks." He reached over, and laid a hand gently on Pietro's arm. "Sorry 'bout yo' mama." 

"Thanks." He managed a smile. "Sorry about your brother." When Remy smiled back at him, he actually felt better for getting that out in the open between them. Which was weird, really – it had taken several months before he'd told Jubilee about his mother, and they'd had a much better start to their friendship. There was a moment of silence, and then Remy spoke again. 

"Remy was point guard." He told him, and when Pietro merely blinked, he grinned. "In basketball. Not quarterback. Football wasn' Remy's t'ing. But basketball… dat was his game." Pietro felt a grin tug at his lips, and for once he didn't hold it back. 

"Basketball, huh?" He paused. "I was track." Remy raised his eyebrows.

"You a runner?" 

"Used to be." Pietro nodded. "Mostly in quick dashes, not so much cross-country." He shrugged. "I don't get to run as much as I used to, obviously, but… well, it helped during Academy training." 

"You ever shoot some hoops?" When Pietro nodded again, Remy grinned. "We ever get some free time, Remy'll take you on. Bet he runs circles 'round ya." 

"We'll have to test that, yeah." Had he just agreed to spend time with Remy outside work? Apparently, he had. "So… cheerleaders, huh?" Remy laughed.

"Dey're very flexible." He shrugged, giving Pietro a sly grin. 

"My sisters were cheerleaders." Pietro cut in smoothly, and Remy laughed again. 

"Probably a good t'ing you didn' go to Remy's school den, eh?" Pietro couldn't help it – he laughed. It felt good to laugh with Remy, especially after the emotionally tiring hour they'd just had. "How many sisters?" 

"Two." Now this was something he didn't mind talking about – he loved his sisters dearly, and he was very proud of both of them. "Lorna's the youngest, and she's technically a half-sister. Then Wanda, she's my twin. Older – though not by much." 

"Yo' a twin?" Pietro nodded, smiling. "She look much like you?" 

"Not exactly. She doesn't have the white hair, if that's what you mean." He paused, wanting to ask questions but also not wanting to bring up a painful subject again. "So you just had the one brother…?" 

"Oui, jus' Henri." He nodded. "Younger, an' a half-brot'er, too." He grinned over at Pietro. "Guess we got dat in common, eh?" He didn't wait for a response, and simply went on talking. "See Remy never knew his mama – she died in childbirt'. Papa said dere were complications. Remy… he was a difficult baby." As he'd neglected to put on the sunglasses, Pietro watched grief touch his eyes. "She didn' make it, an' Papa was devastated, 'cause he loved her so much." 

"I'm sorry." So they were both motherless, another thing in common. Something he wished wasn't so, for either of them. 

"Don' be. Remy never knew her. S'pose dat's better in a way. Hurts less if you never knew de person you lost." He shrugged. "Den a year or so later, Papa met dis pretty lil' blonde who made him laugh, an' she didn' care dat he was a single fat'er wit' a one-year-old kid, so he was happy. T'ing is, she didn' want a kid o' her own, so when she got pregnant t'ings got a bit tense. She stuck around long enough to have de kid, an' den packed her bags an' left before Henri was a year old." He eased to a stop at some lights, and sighed. "Papa was heartbroken, but he picked himself back up, an' he raised us bot' all by himself. Well… he had some help, o' course, especially since he had such a demandin' job, but he did good by us bot'." He smiled, warm and fond. "He's de best Papa I could ever ask fo', really." 

"Sounds like a great family." Pietro smiled. "Hey, uh… I don't want this to sound rude, or… I don't want to pry, but…" 

"It's de eyes, isn' it?" Remy cut in with another smile. "Dat's what you wanna ask 'bout, right?" Pietro chewed on his bottom lip, and nodded, feeling a little uncomfortable asking something so personal without the opportunity being given to him first. "It's fine, Pietro. It's a legitimate question to ask. Remy don' mind talking 'bout it." 

"I just… I didn't want it to seem like I thought it was weird, or… I don't know. I just didn't want to offend you." Pietro shrugged. "I used to get comments on my hair as a kid, and people used to call me albino even though I'm not, and it pissed me off that people couldn't mind their own damn business. So I feel bad for prying into stuff that's none of mine." 

"Remy's yo' partner now, Pietro. Yo' entitled to know a few t'ings, non?" He grinned, hoping to put the younger man at ease. "You know Remy said dere were complications wit' him when he was born? Well… dey came wit' some issues." He reached up, tapped under one eye with his finger. "Dat's where dese come from. It's jus' a condition, dey said. Jus' some mutation in Remy's DNA dat means his eyes came out so different." He shrugged. "Remy did a few years o' hell when he was a kid an' people t'ought it'd be fun to push around de kid wit' de demon eyes, but when he started fightin' back dey gave up. Plus by de time he got to high school, Remy was popular wit' de girls 'cause o' de unique eyes so people stopped tryin' to hate him an' started tryin' to love him instead." 

"You still hide them." Pietro pointed out. 

"Makes it easier sometimes." Remy shrugged one shoulder. "Especially in sensitive situations – an' some people still haven' learned dat starin' is rude." 

"Tell me about it." Pietro muttered, and earned a laugh from Remy. "Well, for what it's worth, you don't have to hide them around me. Ever. I actually think they're pretty nice." He tensed, wishing he could take that back. "Uh, I mean…" 

"Was dat a compliment, Detective?" Remy purred, stopping for another set of lights and using the momentary pause to lean closer. 

"Of course not. I was just trying to boost your ego, sir." He shot back quickly, adding in a smirk for good measure. Remy grinned, and then laughed. 

"Oh, oui. Remy likes you, Pietro." He reached over and patted Pietro's knee, sending him a wink before gunning the engine as the lights changed. Pietro sat back, already getting used to the high speed that Remy seemed to prefer, and tried not to feel so damn _giddy_. Christ, he was like a schoolboy with a crush and it was getting rather embarrassing. 

\--

By the time their shift should have started, they'd eliminated a boyfriend, colleagues, and a fellow waitress she'd had an argument with the week before, and had a similar pattern to Aerial – she'd left work at midnight, called a cab because her car was with a mechanic, and somewhere between getting into the cab and Riverside Park she'd been attacked and killed. A trip to the morgue had given them what they'd expected – the same injury to the head as Aerial, some bruising to suggest a trip or fall, and nothing on the tox screen that shouldn't be there. Hank had even gone so far as to suggest that the weapon used to kill her was the same as the one used to kill Aerial, but he would leave the CSI team to confirm that. 

Remy sat back in his chair and sighed. Same killer, both victims living in the same building, and of similar age. No other connections between the victims apart from location – they had different circles of friends, the restaurant Zoe worked in was nowhere near the department store Aerial worked in, and they hadn't even gone to the same schools. No connection except for the building they lived in, which meant that was their only lead. 

"I got the report from the CSIs." Pietro stepped into the office, and dropped into the visitor's chair. "They found footprints again – fainter than the first scene, but they got enough of one for a match. Both sets of prints are from the same shoe." He waited a beat. "It matches the tread of a women's boot. Hiking boots, to be precise, though they've determined there's some wear to the tread, so they're old boots." 

"A woman's boot, huh?" Remy gave a slight smile. "Looks like we may be lookin' fo' a lady killer after all." He took the report Pietro held out, and scanned it. "De weapon we're lookin' fo' is rounded, like a pipe or a cane, or a baseball bat. Or 'bout a dozen ot'er t'ings – but dey say it's de same fo' bot' victims, so McCoy was on de mark dere." 

"There's a connection to the park, too. Whoever the killer is, they know the locations of the cameras, and they know the best places to hide the bodies so they're not visible from any paths that run nearby. If Oliver and Vahn hadn't decided to go for some public sex, it might have been late in the morning before Zoe was found, if not later." Pietro added. "They know the park, and they chose these women for a reason – women who aren't known to venture into the park at night by themselves." 

"Dis doesn' strike Remy as random, non, you got dat righ'. We find de connection, we find de killer." He leant over the table, and grinned. "An' maybe if we wrap dis case up, you can join Remy fo' a lil' friendly game on de court, eh?" Pietro grinned back at him, and leant in a little. 

"Sure you're up for that, sir? It'd be a shame if you lost, since you were _point guard_ in high school." He teased, holding Remy's gaze. 

"Remy couldn' let dat go unpunished, ya know." He murmured, letting his eyes flick down to Pietro's lips in such an obvious way that Pietro knew he'd done it intentionally. Heat crept under his collar and he wet his suddenly dry lips, his own eyes dropping to Remy's sinfully pretty mouth. When their eyes met again, he almost smiled. Remy wanted him, as much as _he_ wanted Remy. 

"Excuse me, Lieutenant." Pietro pulled back sharply at the familiar voice, and then immediately stood. 

"Ah, Commissioner." Remy stood, though he took his time with the gesture. "What a surprise. What can Remy do fo' you?" 

"I've just spoken with your Captain regarding this case. Two women killed in the same manner and found in the same location – this will hit the news soon, and you'll be needed to answer questions for the press." Erik let his eyes move to his son. "And as Detective Maximoff is your partner, his presence will be required, although he is not expected to engage with the press at this time." 

"O' course, Commissioner." Remy nodded. 

"I shall send word when you're required, Lieutenant, and see to it that you're prepared. If you can spare Detective Maximoff for just a moment, I need to speak with him about what is expected of him." Remy could spot an excuse a mile away, but he knew better than to say anything. He gestured for the Commissioner to do as he wished, and he moved to stand in the doorway as the two men left to speak in private. He spotted Logan hovering by Jubilee's desk, and he wandered over. 

"Ey, Captain." He stood beside him, hands in pockets, his eyes on the two men conversing by the elevator. "De Commissioner seems overly interested in Detective Maximoff. Dere a reason fo' dat?" Both Logan and Jubilee looked at him with raised eyebrows. "What?"

"Uh… Pietro's his son, Remy." Logan told him. "You didn't know?"

"He… but…" Remy frowned, confused. "Really? Commissioner Lensherr is Pietro's fat'er?" Logan nodded. 

"Yeah, I thought you knew that. Pietro and Wanda kept their mother's name out of respect for her memory." Remy glanced back at Erik and Pietro, and things began clicking into place for him. 

"Well… he did say dat police work ran in de family." He murmured. "But he never mentioned dat his papa was de Commissioner."

"It's why he gets so much shit from Cortez." Jubilee put in. "The buttwipe thinks Pietro only got his badge so early 'cause daddy's in charge." 

"And he probably withheld that information because he didn't want another Lieutenant who didn't trust in his ability as a cop and only saw his father's name and authority." Logan added, watching Remy closely. 

"Well dat's bullshit." Remy shrugged, and Logan almost smiled. "By dat reasonin' Remy should be a hot shit lawyer greasin' palms to work his way up de ladder jus' cause daddy's a big name an' a big reputation." He scoffed. "Pietro's his own man." 

"I'm glad you said that, Lieutenant." Logan clapped him on the shoulder. "Otherwise you and me? We'd have problems." 

"Oh, Remy could take ya, old man." He smirked back at him. He shifted when Pietro walked back over, and he could tell immediately that something had changed. He beckoned for Pietro to follow him back into his office, and then he decided to test the waters. "So you really t'ink you could take Remy on de courts?" He grinned, stepping into Pietro's personal space. The detective glanced nervously at the windows of the office, and quickly put space between them. 

"I couldn't say for certain, sir." Oh yeah, something had changed. In a few short minutes, they were back to where they'd started right at the beginning. 

"Well… why don' you check out de building security, see if we get eit'er o' our victims actually getting' out o' de cabs where dey should be – an' if not, chase dat up. Remy'll look into de park, see if dere's any suspicious characters been hangin' around." Dismissed, Pietro nodded and went to get to work. 

Remy watched him go and then dropped into his chair again, watching the head of white hair through the window. He now knew exactly who Pietro was hiding himself from, and why. It all came down to the father – the father who stood at the head of the police force, the one in charge, who no doubt expected the son to follow in his footsteps. Everything Pietro had said during their first case together came back to him, and made everything that much clearer. 

Well, he wasn't going to let a homophobic father get in the way. There was something between them, and Pietro wasn't letting himself see it through because his father wouldn't approve – and that didn't sit right with him. He didn't care if Pietro wanted to keep it secret – well, he did, but that was a different matter – but he damn well wasn't going to deny himself even a shred of happiness just because dear old dad wouldn't like it. 

But first, they'd close the case. Then he'd decide on the best way to proceed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sexual tension rises, and Pietro can't ignore it any longer.

"Sir? I'd like to go down to the apartment building Aerial and Zoe lived in, canvas the area. If someone is selecting the victims from that building, they'd need to hang around to see them." Pietro didn't come into the office, but he hovered by the doorway. "I ran through the exterior camera on the door to the building. Both Aerial and Zoe got out of cabs, like we were told by the company, outside the building – but neither of them went inside." He stepped inside now, and held out a couple of printouts. Remy took them, and studied them. 

The first one showed Aerial, dressed in the clothes she was found in and carrying a stylish blue bag over one shoulder, moving out of shot, and away from the building's entrance. The second showed Zoe in a similar manner, the angle showing she, too, had been carrying a bag. 

"Somet'in' caught deir attention." Remy murmured. "An' it got 'em killed." He glanced up at Pietro, who was still all business after the conversation with his father. "Alrigh'. You head on down, talk to some neighbours. Does de building have a doorman?" Pietro nodded. "Talk to him first. Dey notice t'ings 'cause dey're paid too." Dismissed, Pietro went back to his desk to gather up some files in case he needed them. Remy went back to the reports he'd been scanning, but so far he'd found nothing about any suspicious characters stretching back for the past six months. He doubted whoever it was had been hanging around for longer than that, but he'd get someone to check back further if nothing else popped up. 

"Lieutenant." He looked up, straightening up when Cortez stepped into his office.

"What can Remy do fo' you, Detective?" He was prepared for another flash of the detective's temper. He wasn't above _hoping_ the bastard gave him another reason to slap him back into his place.

"I have something that might apply to your case." When Remy beckoned him forward, he walked over and sat, rather stiffly, in his chair. Remy was tempted to point out he hadn't asked him to sit, but he decided to play nice. "The name Aerial Jenko rang a bell when I heard it yesterday, but I couldn't place it. Well, as it turns out, Aerial was a witness in a case we worked last year." 

"Is dat so?" Okay, now he was interested. Shoving his dislike of the detective aside, he sat forward and gestured for him to continue. 

"It was a pretty easy case. Guy whacks this girl in the park, and I mean _whacks_ – dead instantly, and it wasn't pretty. He ran, of course, but the idiot was seen by three other people." Cortez had brought a file with him, and he opened it up, and tossed a sheet onto Remy's desk. "Recognise two of those names, Lieutenant?" He did. Aerial Jenko and Zoe Kingston. 

"Son o' a bitch." He murmured. "What did de guy get?" 

"Life, of course." Cortez shrugged. "It's not him, sir. When I made the connection and called up the file, I put in a call to the prison he was sent to. He's still there." 

"It's a connection, t'ough." He scanned the sheet and picked up the name of the third witness. "An' since we don' believe in coincidence 'round here, Tony Walters is next." He paused, studied the other detective. "Good work, Detective." 

"Just doing my job, sir." He rose, as stiffly as he'd sat, and made for the door. 

"It's de only job Pietro's doin', too." Remy called to him before he could leave. Cortez paused, footsteps faltering for a second, but he didn't turn around or speak, and merely continued on his way. 

Once he was gone, Remy got to work. He called up the full file of the case, and put the details of all three witnesses on his screen. Zoe and Aerial had both lived in different buildings during that time, but Tony Walters was listed as living in the building both women had moved to. After a quick check, it was confirmed that he was still there. He'd have to contact Pietro, and meet him at the building to talk to him. 

He moved onto the details of the case itself – the victim had been a young woman, from the same age range as Aerial and Zoe. Their witness statements said she'd been walking through Riverside Park when a man, presumed drunk, lumbered in front of her and started hassling her. When she pushed him away and tried to get away, he hit her with the bottle he'd been holding – and kept hitting her until she didn't get up. Then he ran, leaving the three witnesses to call for help and try to stop the bleeding. It had been hopeless, of course, as the poor girl was dead, but all three had been willing and ready to give statements and identify the man responsible. An open-and-shut case, as the man – Roger Towson – was caught only an hour later, and with visual confirmation from all three witnesses, along with forensic evidence and footage from nearby cameras, he was sentenced to life imprisonment for murder.

So if this was the connection, and not the building, who was taking their revenge? He brought up the file on Roger Towson and went straight for immediate family. He was looking for a woman, so he put aside brothers and his only child – a son – for now, and focused instead on the only woman listed as family – the wife. He scanned through her information, and after only a minute or two he knew he had their killer. He printed out the information, shoved it all into a file, and grabbed his coat. 

\-- 

Pietro sat in the lobby of the building, going over his notes before he decided to start knocking on doors. The doorman had given him very little to work on – he hadn't been on duty either night, so he hadn't seen Aerial or Zoe or what they might have been distracted by that led them to walk away from home. He had, however, made a mention of a homeless woman who'd been lingering around for the past couple of weeks – harmless, he'd called her, and assumed she was rooting in the dumpsters for anything of use. Pietro had made a note of it, even if it proved to be nothing. 

When his phone vibrated against his leg, he fished it out and opened up the text he'd received. _'Meet in the lobby of the apartment building. Got a lead. – R.'_ Pietro found himself surprised that the text hadn't been signed with a kiss. Remy seemed the type. Of course thinking about that brought up fresh memories of the conversation he'd had with his father, and he shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Erik hadn't said anything about how close he'd been to Remy when he'd interrupted them, but it was the second time it had happened now and Pietro _knew_ he'd noticed, even if he kept silent. So he had to keep his distance from Remy, in case his father put two and two together. But _god_ that was going to be difficult. He just had to focus on the job, and nothing else. 

But when Remy strode through the front entrance in those slim-fit jeans and the loose pink button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, all he could focus on was how much he wanted to slam him up against the nearest hard, flat surface and bite at that smooth, smooth neck. _Goddamn southern cops._ He assumed the coat had been left behind, either in the office or in the car, and to his surprise he noted that the sunglasses had been neglected, too. Then his eyes found the file he carried in one hand, and he focused on work once more. He went to rise from the chair, but before he could, Remy perched himself on the arm, and dumped the file in his lap. 

"Turns out, our victims knew each ot'er." Pietro frowned, flicking open the file. "Never worked toget'er, never went to school toget'er, an' no friends in common, but dey knew each ot'er all de same." 

"Witnesses to a crime." Pietro murmured as he read the first page in the file. "A crime committed in the same park we've found them." He looked up at his Lieutenant. "How'd you figure it out?"

"Detective Cortez brought it to attention." Pietro tried not to let his discomfort show when he heard that name, but Remy probably saw right through him. It was a talent of his, apparently. "It's all in de file, but Remy'll give you de short version. Our ladies an' a young man witnessed Roger Towson brutally murder a young woman in de park, an' played a part in bringin' him to justice. Now Towson himself is still servin' his time, but he left behind some pretty pissed off relatives. Eliminated de brot'ers as dey're bot' in different states an' have been for years, an' Remy crossed off de son 'cause he cut all ties wit' de family an' moved to Texas as soon as his fat'er went to prison."

"And we're looking for a woman, in any case." Pietro nodded. "So – the wife?" 

"You got it." Remy nodded. "Turns out dat Roger was her only source o' income. When de son left, she was left wit' a car an' a house she couldn' pay fo'. Couldn' get a job to stick, so she ended up sellin' de house an' de car an' downgradin' to a one-bed apartment." Remy smiled now. "Wanna guess where?" 

"Here?" Pietro raised his eyebrows. "She lives _here_?" 

"Non. Well, not anymore." Remy shrugged. "Still couldn' get a job to stick, so she couln' pay de rent. Got kicked out, an' disappeared wit' her stuff." Pietro, remembering the homeless woman the doorman had told him about, flicked through the file to find the wife's ID photo. "She has no listed address to date."

"She's homeless." Pietro pulled the photograph from the file. "And I think she's been hanging around here lately. Doorman said he's noticed a homeless woman lurking for a couple of weeks – and from what we know of the victims, they were the type to help someone in need. If they saw a homeless woman struggling by herself or asking for help, chances are they wouldn't even hesitate, even late at night." 

"Especially since she's a woman. Women are typically mo' cautious wit' men, derefore unlikely to rush to assist a man late at nigh' – at least not by demselves. Dey'd certainly never go anywhere wit' one." Remy stood, leaning over the arm of the chair as he dropped his voice to a murmur. "Men are predators after all, non?" Pietro met his eyes, fighting back the flush creeping up under his collar, and swallowed thickly. 

"You think she's going to go after the third witness?" His voice was steady, but it took a lot of effort to keep it that way. Remy was close – too close – and the urge to yank him forward by the front of his shirt and kiss him was getting too much to resist. 

"Oui. Tony Walters. Lives on de t'ird floor here." Remy straightened up, and Pietro breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's go pay him a visit." When he strode to the elevator, Pietro jumped up and followed him, not looking forward to being in a confined space with him again. He really, _really_ had to get some before his body embarrassed him at entirely the wrong moment. Maybe he'd go out as soon as they closed this case, and get drunk enough not to care who he went home with.

Tony Walters wasn't in when they knocked on the door, and so Pietro called up his place of work as they strode back through the lobby. As they approached the doorman, Pietro pulled out the photograph of Elaine Towson – and a short moment later, they had confirmation that she was the homeless woman he'd seen loitering around the building. 

"We got her, Pietro. We're gon' talk to Tony, make sure he's aware dat he might be in danger an' not to go anywhere wit' strange women. We'll put a couple o' officers on him if we have to, but hopefully it won' come to dat. Put out an APB on Elaine, an' get some uniforms to patrol de park. Chances are she'll be hangin' around dere, too. Lots o' homeless people prefer parks to doorways where dey'll be moved along by cops, so she could have a hole 'round dere somewhere." Remy lingered by his car, and glanced over at the one he knew was registered under Pietro's name. It was a departmental issue as opposed to a personal vehicle – a plain, unmarked car, and very ordinary. The complete opposite of the flashy sports car he drove – and what did that say about them? "You get dat sorted, maybe look into places homeless people like to hole demselves up in dat are wit'in walkin' distance from here. If she's not in de park, she might be in an empty building somewhere. Remy'll take Tony, an' he'll meet you back at de station." Pietro was relieved that he'd be driving his own vehicle – even if he was getting used to Remy's driving, it gave him a little more space from the Lieutenant and a chance to get himself under control before he gave in to temptation and embarrassed himself. They parted ways, Pietro heading to the station as Remy turned in the direction of the hardware store Tony worked at. 

\-- 

When Remy strolled into the station, Pietro had already put out the APB, sent out a handful of uniforms to patrol the park and surrounding area, and compiled a list of all the known locations of derelict or abandoned buildings that were known to be squatting locations for the homeless. Remy took the list, scanned it, and then beckoned for Pietro to follow him as he strode back to the elevator. 

"We're gon' check a couple o' dese places out, show Elaine's photo." He paused by a vending machine on the way out of the station, and pulled out his wallet, tossing it to Pietro. "Get a handful o' candy bars an' bags o' chips. Homeless people tend to be mo' chatty if you give dem food." Pietro opened the wallet to dig out some notes, and a photograph tucked into one of the slots caught his attention. Knowing he shouldn't pry, but also knowing his curiosity would get the better of him, he selected some candy bars whilst he slyly studied the photograph. 

The two boys in the photo looked almost nothing alike, asides from similar facial structure. The taller of the two was clearly Remy – the coppery-brown hair and red-on-black eyes gave that away – and he was pleased to note he'd been correct in assuming he'd had freckles when he was younger, as there was a distinct dusting of them across his nose and cheeks. The shorter boy had blond hair and grey eyes, and he had both arms wrapped securely around Remy's waist. Both boys were grinning at the camera, young and happy. 

Pietro knew he was looking at Remy's younger brother. 

Feeling guilty, he closed up the wallet once more and gathered the snacks he'd programmed into the machine, and carried them all over to where Remy stood tapping away at his handheld. He reached out a hand, taking the wallet from him and tucking it into a pocket without looking up from the screen. 

"We'll start from de top o' de list, an' hope we get lucky." Remy said as they walked down to his car and climbed in. "Tony's stayin' wit' his girlfriend tonigh', an' Remy gave de address to a couple o' uniforms on his way in. Dey're gon' circle de block a couple o' times after dark, jus' in case. If we don' catch her tonight, she migh' try fo' anot'er night. We know she's targetin' de witnesses, probably 'cause she blames dem fo' what's happened to her, an' she's been patient enough to wait fo' de righ' moment. Guess it was jus' luck on her part dat she got de chance to kill dose poor women on two consecutive nights." 

"She won't get another chance." Pietro said firmly. "We're going to catch her, and stop her, before she can try for Tony." He sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. "I should have found the case. I was going to run Aerial's name through our system as part of the background check, but then I went home and we got called out for Zoe and-," 

"Don' blame yo'self, Pietro. Remy sent you home last nigh' 'cause you were two seconds away from bein' asleep on yo' feet." And he'd missed it, too. "She struck too soon fo' us to know she was goin' after dem. We didn't even know who she was yesterday, but now we do. We were too late to save Zoe, but we're not gon' be too late to save Tony." He paused, considered something. "His girlfriend is pregnant, ya know. T'ink 'bout dat. Yo' not only gon' save a young man's life, but yo' gon' be savin' a fat'er, too." 

"You're right." Pietro nodded, and smiled. That did help, and he knew Remy was right in any case. There was no way they could have found everything in just one day, and Elaine had struck fast, too fast. They hadn't even suspected there would b a second. 

When Remy pulled over at the first location, Pietro glanced around nervously at the area. It wasn't his own safety he was concerned for, of course – he'd worked these streets in uniform countless times and he could handle some thugs and the homeless drunks – but for the safety of Remy's nice, shiny car. As Remy got out, he made sure his weapon was on display, and he made a deliberate show of locking the car. 

"If dere is a single mark on dis car when we get back, dis badass cop here's gon' be kickin' heads until he finds de one responsible, an' den dat son o' a bitch is gon' find himself locked in a dark hole." He called out, loudly enough for the whole street to hear. Pietro tried not to let his disapproval show on his face. "Not one mark." He turned and flashed a grin at Pietro, and then gestured for them to walk. 

"Sir, I can't say I approve." He murmured, keeping his voice low in case anyone was listening in. Remy laughed, and draped an arm around Pietro's shoulders. 

"Pietro, you never approve o' de way Remy does t'ings." He sent him another grin. "But it works. Remy's been drivin' flashy cars to dodgy locations from de moment he made detective down in Nawlins, an' he's never actually had to follow t'rough an' kick in some heads." 

"But still-,"

"Relax, Pietro. A lil' intimidation don' hurt." They stepped up to the building known to be a haunt for the homeless, and Pietro fished out the bag of candy bars and chips, along with Elaine's photograph. "Shall we?" 

Four candy bars and three locations down, and they were having no luck. None of the regulars recognised the photograph, and could give them very little to go on. Pietro was starting to get frustrated, and he could tell Remy wasn't exactly pleased, either. They pulled up outside one of the locations that had been lower down the list – the place was falling apart, so very few people ventured into it anymore – and he glared at the building through the windshield. 

"We gotta find her, Pietro. No luck from de uniforms?" Pietro checked his phone, and shook his head. "Damn. Where de hell is she?" He stepped out of the car, and narrowed his eyes at the building that looked just about ready to collapse. "T'ink she's in dere?" 

"Not unless she has a death wish." Pietro sighed. "But I suppose we have to check it out regardless." 

"Dis is de last place wit'in a reasonable distance to de park an' de apartment building. So we check it out befo' we move to places furt'er out." Remy nodded. "Jus' watch yo' step an' don' do anyt'in' stupid." They moved towards the entrance together, both of them reaching for a flashlight as they stepped into the building.  Twin beams of light washed over heaps of rubble and trash, and a couple of threadbare blankets that implied someone had been staying here at some point over the past few months. 

"Hard to imagine people actually call this home on occasion." Pietro murmured, his voice bouncing off the walls. 

"It's a roof an' four walls, Pietro." Remy replied, keeping his voice low as he stepped carefully further into the building. "Dat's luxury to some people." They moved together, covering each other's backs just in case, flashlights sweeping left and right. "T'ough as far as shitholes go, dis is one o' de worst." They ascended to the next floor, stairs creaking dangerously. 

"Maybe we should make this quick, sir. We probably shouldn't be in here without protective gear." He pointed out as dust rained down on them from the ceiling. 

"Jus' one mo' floor, Pietro. If we watch our step, we should be fine." He didn't like how much dust was falling, though, or the way the floorboards moved as he stepped on them. They neared the staircase that led up to the top floor – and Remy held up a hand as he heard something above. Both men fell silent immediately, and Remy covered the beam of his flashlight with one hand as he listened. 

Footsteps, above them. 

He turned, signalling in the near-dark to Pietro, who nodded. Remy quietly drew his weapon from its holster and held it out ready, angling the flashlight down so the beam wouldn't give away his position as he ascended the stairs. He'd barely got halfway up when a dark shape hurled itself at him from the top, and he managed to swing around to the side just in time – the figure toppled down the stairs, landing at Pietro's feet. There was a brief pause as they both got over the shock – and as the flashlight beams shone on the face of Elaine Towson, she kicked into gear and jumped to her feet. Pietro reached for her, but she swung an arm out and managed to crack her fist against his jaw with enough force to knock him back a few steps, and then she took off running – limping from the fall down the stairs.

"Shit." Remy hissed, hurrying after her with Pietro at his heels. The floorboards groaned and creaked, and more dust rained down from the ceiling as they chased her across the floor towards the other set of stairs. "Police!" He called out, knowing it was useless. She wasn't going to stop. Pietro reached the stairs first, shooting down them as Elaine disappeared from sight, and Remy paused at the top as the entire building groaned in protest. "Damn. We gotta get out o' here." He ran down the stairs just in time to see Pietro preparing for a tackle that would take Elaine down – and when there was another groan from above coupled with more dust and a distinct cracking sound, Remy didn't hesitate. 

He pushed off as fast as he could, and caught Pietro around the waist even as the ceiling above them opened up and dropped down. He twisted, bringing them both down to the ground just out of harm's way as the ceiling caved in right where Pietro had been. Pietro pushed himself up, wincing as pain shot through one shoulder and down his leg, and caught sight of Elaine slipping out of the building's entrance. He went to run after her, and then hesitated, glancing down at Remy who was struggling to push himself up.

"Go." Remy told him, waving a hand at him. "Go, Remy's fine. Get dat murderin' cow befo' she gets away." Pietro hesitated for a moment longer, because Remy didn't _look_ fine, but he knew if Elaine got away they'd have trouble finding her again for some time. He took off after her, ignoring the pain in his leg as he pushed himself on. Luckily, Elaine was suffering from her fall down the stairs, and she didn't have his history of track. He caught her halfway down the street, pinning her to the nearest wall as he reached for his cuffs. 

"Elaine Towson, you are under arrest for the murder of Aerial Jenko and Zoe Kingston. You have the right to remain silent…" as he recited the Miranda, he locked the cuffs on her wrists, and then reached for his phone to call for back-up – and medical assistance. He relayed the situation, and then escorted Elaine back up the street, his concern for Remy increasing now that he'd caught their suspect. Relief washed over him when Remy stepped onto the street in one piece, although he had a nasty cut on one arm and a few scrapes on his face – and he was absolutely filthy. "Lieutenant." 

"Not now, Detective." But he smiled, very briefly. They stood together as they waited for their back-up, and when it arrived Remy raised an eyebrow in Pietro's direction when he spotted the ambulance along with the black-and-whites. "You called fo' medical assistance?" Pietro handed Elaine over to some uniforms, and then gave Remy a rather pointed look. 

"A building just collapsed on us, Lieutenant." 

"A ceiling caved in – _near_ us." Remy corrected. "An' we're bot' fine, save fo' some bumps an' scrapes." He looked Pietro up and down. "T'ough you could do wit' a shower." Pietro glanced down at himself, wincing at the dust and dirt that covered him head-to-toe. "An' dat suit's probably ruined." 

"Yeah… damn." Pietro sighed. He'd _liked_ this suit. "Still, you should get yourself checked over." He hesitated. "And thanks. Y'know, for…" 

"You get yo'self hurt on de job, it comes down on Remy's head. Besides… he'd feel awful if dat pretty face o' yours got damaged." He winked, trying to keep the mood light. Pietro rolled his eyes, and directed a paramedic to Remy. 

"Check this one out first. He took the worst of it." Pietro told them. Even as Remy objected, he stepped away and stripped off his jacket, examining the tears in the fabric. He could probably get it fixed, if he really wanted to. One of the paramedics came over to check him out, clearing him as fine after inspecting a couple of cuts which he then cleaned out and patched up. Satisfied that his patient was healthy, he went back to assist his partner with Remy – who was still objecting, which made Pietro smile. 

He'd been caught by surprise when Remy had grabbed him around the waist and effectively thrown him aside – he'd been so focused on chasing Elaine, and how close he was to catching her, that he hadn't noticed the danger of the unstable ceiling. They probably shouldn't have gone into the building, not after they'd seen how unsteady it was, and he'd probably have to listen to a lecture from both Logan and his father later, but they got their suspect, and they'd have her charged and locked up by the end of shift. 

He was partly ashamed to realise he couldn't stop thinking about the way Remy had effectively shielded him with his own body, even though they were mostly clear of the danger. It had felt… nice. Too nice. Once Remy was cleared by the paramedics, they climbed into his car, and turned in the direction of the station. 

"We'll let Elaine wait fo' as long as possible, eh?" Remy grinned, brushing dust from his hair. "An' we'll grab a shower at de station so we don' look like chimney sweeps when we go in fo' interview." 

"And a change of clothes." Pietro added, scowling at a tear in one knee of his trousers. Remy took his time in driving back, unlike usual, and Pietro gave him a sly look of concern as he realised he was favouring one shoulder, turning the wheel with only one hand in a way that suggested his other arm was troubling him. He said nothing, however. He got the feeling he'd be wasting his breath. 

As soon as they got to the station, Pietro went to the locker room and grabbed his spare change of clothes and headed for the on-site showers. He rarely used them unless he absolutely had to, but he didn't exactly have the time to run home and shower this time. He went into the shower stall at the far end of the room because it was set apart from the others very slightly, and gave him more sense of privacy. He stepped under the hot spray of water with a sigh of pleasure, tipping his face back to let the water run smoothly through his hair. He simply stood there for a moment, letting the hot water soothe aching muscles, and then he began to scrub at the dirt and grime that clung to his skin. 

He turned off the water once he was sufficiently clean, and wrapped the towel firmly around his waist before he dared to step out of the stall. He peered around the room carefully, thankful that no one else was wandering around. He wasn't embarrassed, nothing like that. He just felt… vulnerable, and he hated feeling vulnerable. He crossed to the locker he'd dumped his stuff in and pulled out the other towel in his bag, rubbing it quickly over his hair to stop it dripping into his eyes. 

He stopped, and turned as a shower stall door opened, and he felt his entire body tense as Remy stepped out, towel slung low on his hips. He was still slick from the shower, droplets of water clinging to his skin – and Pietro licked his lips as he let his eyes trace every line of that slender, toned body. As he shamelessly studied him, he noted that the beautiful sleeve tattoo stretched all the way up his arm, a rose in full bloom twisting beautifully over the curve of his shoulder – and it wasn't his only tattoo. There were three stars on his right shoulder, pink with a thick black outline, a sleek cat – a Serval, if he wasn't mistaken – sitting elegantly along his right side, and what appeared to be a heart on the right side of his chest with writing inside that he couldn't read from where he stood. He had three claw-marks slashing across his ribs on the left, and curling vines creeping up his left hip to twist around towards his stomach. 

And then there were the two arrows poking above the top of the towel, both angled towards the part of him still covered – and Pietro felt a flush creeping up as his eyes trailed in that direction. 

"You look mo' human now." Remy murmured, though Pietro barely heard the words. He forced his eyes away, and caught a glimpse of more twisting vines creeping up one leg. The amount of ink had taken him by surprise, and _god_ it was _hot_. He'd always had a bit of a thing for tattoos if they suited the person wearing them, and Remy was definitely a man who suited ink. As Remy stepped up to a locker not too far from his own, he spotted yet more ink – a flock of birds flying across his shoulder blades, and pawprints up his right tricep. God, how much ink did this man _have_? 

He turned away, feeling awkward and embarrassed as he realised he now had to remove the towel and dry himself off before he could dress again – in front of Remy. He decided the best way to do it was as quick as possible without it looking suspicious, and so he turned his back on Remy and loosened the towel. He towelled himself down without looking around, feeling his face burning knowing that Remy could quite easily be watching him, and he tugged on his underwear quickly, tying the towel around his waist once more so he didn't feel so exposed. 

"So, Pietro…" Remy leant against the lockers beside him, still wet, hair still dripping, and Pietro could smell the soap or the shampoo he'd used in the shower. "How 'bout we go fo' a drink after we close dis up, eh?" Distracted by the beautifully sculpted body in front of him, Pietro nodded without realising what it was he was agreeing to. 

"Yeah, sure…" He wet his lips, forcing himself to look up and meet Remy's eyes. "What?" 

"Good. We'll go to a nice bar after shift." Remy stepped back, his hands going to the towel that hung dangerously low on his hips. "A few drinks, time to relax, eh?" 

"Oh." Shit, now he realised what he'd agreed to. Drinks with Remy. _Alcoholic_ drinks with Remy. "Uh. Yeah, okay. Sounds good." He turned away when Remy loosened his towel, and hurriedly pulled on a smart pair of jeans and the turtleneck shirt he kept stored in his locker. It wasn't a suit like he preferred, but it was smart enough. "I'll, um. I'll go prepare for interview." He dragged a brush through his hair, slicking it back without putting any product into it, and then collected up his things and hurried for the door. 

_Don't turn around, Pietro. Don't turn around._

If he turned around, if he saw that long, lean body completely exposed and slick from the shower, he'd never be able to keep himself under control – and he really didn't want to be caught screwing his boss in the station showers. 

Remy let the towel slip from his hips and grinned to himself as Pietro hurried through the door – and yes, he was a little disappointed that the detective hadn't stuck around for just a little bit longer. 

Well, there was time for that later.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up...

Elaine went down easy. There was no demand for a lawyer, and she admitted proudly to killing both Aerial and Zoe – and gave them a complete run-through of both murders, and explained in detail how she'd intended to do the same for Tony. When Remy and Pietro left interview, she was being marched down to a holding cell by two uniforms, ranting and raving about how she'd get her revenge for what happened to her. 

"It's never as satisfyin' when dey don' figh'." Remy sighed. Pietro glanced over at him, one eyebrow raised, but he said nothing. "Still, at least we got her befo' she did mo' damage, an' we can tell de families dat de killer has been brought to justice, non?" 

"I can contact Zoe's family, and tell the uniforms watching Tony that they can inform him the danger has passed." Pietro said as they walked together to the bullpen. "I figured you'd want to tell Aerial's mother."

"You figured righ'." Remy nodded. "An' den once dat's done an' de reports are written, de two o' us are goin' fo' a drink." He flashed Pietro a grin, his hand brushing the back of Pietro's neck as they reached the detective's desk. Pietro felt his shoulders tense, but he managed a smile as Remy stepped away to head to his own office. God, he was going to have to find a way out of that. 

He contacted Zoe's father and told him they'd caught his daughter's murderer and that she'd be going down for life – and how his daughter had been kind enough to want to help a woman in need. Of course, he didn't add that her kindness had been her downfall, and that if she'd ignored the struggling homeless woman she would probably still be alive. Parents often found comfort in the knowledge that they'd raised a good person, even if that led to their loss. He sent out a quick message to the uniforms, wrote up his report, and then he sat back and wondered how on earth he was going to get out of going for drinks with Remy. 

He could make up an excuse, tell him he had to get home immediately after shift, and suggest they rearrange for another day. That would be his best shot. Nodding to himself, he pushed up from his desk and walked up to the Lieutenant's office. He paused in the doorway, studying the man who sat behind the desk, head in his hands. He could tell from his posture that he was tired – exhausted, probably – and Pietro's eyes went to the bandage wrapped around his right forearm. Remy had protected him earlier. He'd pulled him out of the way, and had probably saved him from some serious injury – and he'd come out of it worse for it. When Remy lifted his head, Pietro glanced at the grazes on that handsome face, and sighed. 

"I was thinking… there's a bar just down the street that's fairly decent." The least he could do was have a couple of drinks with him. He'd be an ass if he backed out of it now. "I can't have too much, what with driving home, but…" 

"Sounds good." The risk of embarrassing himself was worth the smile that lit up the Lieutenant's face. "You 'bout ready to go, Detective?" Pietro nodded. 

"I've finished my report. There's a couple of things I could add, but I can do that from home if necessary." Remy waved a hand at that, and shut down his computer as he stood.

"Take de nigh' off, Pietro. It can wait until mornin'." He'd traded the pink button-up for a simple white t-shirt that fit snugly against his chest in ways that distracted Pietro, and when he stretched it lifted _just_ enough to give him a flash of tan skin. "De moment we walk out o' dis station, Remy don' wanna hear anyt'in' 'bout work, oui?" He grabbed his coat and tugged it on, and walked with Pietro to his desk. 

"Sure." Pietro smiled, hooking his coat from the back of his chair. Jubilee lifted a hand in a wave as they moved towards the elevator, and she threw in a wink at Pietro when Remy draped his arm around his shoulders. Pietro made a rude gesture behind Remy's back in her direction. 

"Somet'in' tells Remy you don' usually do dis." Remy said as they descended to the ground floor. "Go fo' drinks after work, dat is." 

"I… it's not a common thing, no." He admitted with a shrug. "I used to work a lot of cases solo, so I didn't have a partner to celebrate with whenever I closed one." They stepped out onto the street, and Pietro took the lead, turning in the direction of the bar. He'd picked this one because it was within walking distance of the station, and therefore provided him a quick escape route if needed – but it was also usually full of cops, too, and he knew the whole station would know he was having drinks with his boss by the next day. He just hoped his father would see it as a good thing and not wonder at a deeper reasoning behind it. 

"Well, you keep up de good work, an' Remy will be draggin' yo' ass out whenever he can." Remy grinned, happy to let Pietro guide him. "Especially if we're gon' make a habit out o' buildings fallin' on us." 

"I hope that's not the case." Pietro groaned. "One building was enough, thanks." Remy laughed as they stepped into the bar, and Pietro quickly stepped forward so Remy's arm would drop from around his shoulders. That would generate too many rumours, and he had enough of those going around as it was. He picked out a table that was furthest away from the bar and any gathered cops, sufficiently secluded so they could have some privacy. 

"What are ya drinkin'?" Remy didn't sit, instead fishing into his pocket for his wallet. Pietro hesitated, wondering if he should insist on paying for his own drink – or on buying both. 

"Oh, uh… just a beer, I guess. Anything will do." He really wasn't picky – and a beer was safe. Anything stronger and his tongue would start to loosen. Remy flashed him another grin, and then disappeared off to the bar, leaving Pietro to wonder how he'd got himself into this in the first place. 

There was obvious attraction involved, and it clearly went both ways. He didn't want to give Remy any wrong ideas – and god knows he'd given him enough mixed signals as it was. But, at the same time, there was part of him that wondered how bad it would be if he just let himself have what he clearly wanted. He mostly ignored that part of him, of course, but that wasn't going to happen and he knew it would bring nothing but trouble, but it was getting harder and harder to resist. 

Especially when Remy kept wearing tight clothing that highlighted _all_ of his best features, and kept looking at him like he was mentally undressing him. 

He tugged at the collar of his turtleneck as Remy came back over, a bottle in one hand and a glass of amber liquid in the other, and he managed a smile as the Cajun slid into the seat opposite him. 

"Thanks." He accepted the beer from him, and when Remy held up his glass, he clinked the rim of the bottle against it. He drank, and wondered how exactly this was going to progress. He'd gone for drinks a few times with other cops, but he'd always been in a group and someone else always initiated the subject of conversation, leaving him to just sit back and listen and occasionally contribute where necessary. But this was different. This was just the two of them, and it had the potential to become very awkward very fast. 

"So what exactly do you do when yo' not workin'?" Remy asked, setting his whiskey down as he sat back against the chair. Pietro shrugged. 

"Not much, if I'm honest. The job is pretty much twenty-four-seven for me. Whatever time I get outside of work, I just… relax, I guess. I go for a run when I can, and…" And spend time with his daughter once a month. "I guess I don't exactly have an exciting life." 

"You catch killers an' risk yo' life." Remy pointed out. "Dat's pretty excitin', non?" 

"Fair point." Pietro laughed a little. "How about you?" He drank from the bottle again, willing himself to just relax and enjoy himself. "Do you lead some super-thrilling second life?" 

"Remy lives alone wit' t'ree cats." Remy grinned. "Make o' dat what you will."

"Three cats?" Pietro grinned back at him. "Oddly enough, I'm not even surprised." They both laughed, and Pietro felt himself relax. This was nice. This was just drinks between friends and colleagues, nothing more. Well… if he ignored how much he wanted to rip that tight white shirt off and pounce on him right here in the bar, of course. God, he really needed to get laid soon. 

"Remy's always been a cat person." He shrugged, still grinning. "We had dis big scruffy t'ing when he was a kid. Grumpiest cat in de world." He paused, smirked. "Logan kinda reminds Remy o' dat cat." Pietro nearly choked on a mouthful of beer, and laughed as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Has he always been so grumpy-face?" 

"He's, ah… yeah." Pietro laughed again. "He's gruff, and irritable, but he's a good guy. He went to school with my father, so he's sorta like an honorary uncle to me and my sisters." 

"Did he go to de Academy wit' yo' fat'er, too?" Pietro paused, staring at him over the lip of his bottle. "Ah, oui. Remy knows yo' de Commissioner's son. You carefully avoided tellin' Remy dat, non?" When Pietro said nothing, Remy held up a hand. "Non, don' worry. Remy gets why, he does. But now dat it's out in de open, he jus' wants to say dat it don' mean shit to him, oui? Hell, you could be de president's son an' Remy would still treat you de same way he treats anyone else. You don' have to hide dese t'ings, Pietro. Remy's not gon' suddenly lick yo' shoes jus' 'cause yo' papa's de one in charge." He smiled, and shrugged. "You want Remy's respect, you earn it. Simple." 

"That's… that's good to know." He relaxed now, because he could tell Remy was genuine. Besides, he didn't know how long the Lieutenant had known – and if his behaviour towards him hadn't changed at all, then he was clearly telling the truth about not giving a shit either way. "I guess I'm just used to people acting differently because of who my father is." 

"Sometimes it's tough to have a papa wit' a well-known name, eh?" Remy smiled, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "When Remy was in college he had law students comin' up to him an' tryin' to make nice jus' 'cause dey wanted to get in wit' his papa. Saw t'rough dem all, o' course, but didn' make it easier." 

"Guess we've got a few things in common then, huh?" Pietro murmured, knocking back the bottle again. Damn, he was nearly through the first bottle and they'd only been here a couple of minutes. He had to be careful, and pace himself. It would be far too easy to lose track of how many he'd had. 

"Guess so." Remy fell silent for a moment, lifting his glass to his lips to drink. Pietro watched the motion of his throat as he swallowed, and shifted in his chair as he forced his eyes away. "Well, we agreed not to talk 'bout work, so…" Pietro nodded, glad to change the subject. 

"I, ah… I noticed you've got a few tattoos." When a grin stretched across Remy's face, Pietro held back a sigh. Why did he have to bring that up? He could have mentioned something else, he could have asked more about New Orleans or his family or _anything_ – but no, he had to bring up the tattoos and that moment in the showers. 

"Oui. Remy has a t'ing fo' ink." His eyes went to the sleeve tattoo. "He's got a few mo' dat you haven' seen." When his gaze lifted back to Pietro's face, the detective felt the temperature lift rather sharply. "We'd have to get a whole lot mo' intimate fo' dat." 

"Y-Yeah?" Oh god, he stammered, he actually stammered. Now if only the ground could open up and swallow him, that would be great. 

"Oui." Remy was smiling in a way that twisted Pietro's stomach in knots, and sent his pulse into overdrive. God, did Remy even know what effect he had on him? Probably. "Maybe you'll see dem one day, eh?" He lifted his glass again, watching Pietro over the rim as he drank. It amused him how much Pietro seemed to squirm, how he so clearly wanted to jump his bones but still wouldn't give in to desire. And, having seen – partially – what the detective looked like under his suit, Remy was all too eager to see what would happen when he finally snapped. 

He expected it would probably be some of the best sex he'd ever have. 

"I… yeah, maybe." Oh god, had he actually said that? _Think fast, Pietro._ "Anything can happen on the job." _Not making things better, Pietro_. He felt himself flush, and hoped the lighting was dim enough to hide it. He had to change the subject, and fast. "One thing I'm curious about-," he broke off, holding back a wince because he could have worded that _so_ much better, and then he went on, "-and please don't take any offence because I mean none." When Remy raised an eyebrow, and sighed. "I'm just wondering about your… well, I mean… you have a very certain way of speaking." 

"Ah." Remy smiled easily. "De t'ird person t'ing, oui?" Pietro nodded, glad that he'd reacted well. He really didn't want to insult his superior – especially not so soon after partially admitting he'd like to see him naked one day. 

"I find it interesting." Pietro shrugged. "And I've noticed it's not constant. I was just wondering if there was a reason behind it." 

"Ah, well." Remy sat forward again, shifting the atmosphere to something a little more intimate. "See, English ain' Remy's firs' language. Remy comes from a long line o' Cajuns born an' raised, so he grew up speakin' French as his firs' language. Well, Cajun French, as any Frenchman would like to point out." He rolled his eyes at that, and Pietro grinned. He knew of a few French-Canadians who would love to point that out, too. "It wasn' until Remy was due to start school dat he started learnin' to speak English fluently. He knew a few words here an' dere, o' course." He paused to drink. "It's a difficult language, an' Remy had some trouble wit' it, but he got dere in de end. T'ing is – an' Papa took Remy to see someone 'bout dis an' she said it was somet'in' to do wit' confidence issues," he rolled his eyes again, and Pietro laughed. 

"Confidence issues. You?" Remy laughed with him. 

"Oui. Hard to believe, righ'?" He shrugged. "Anyway, Remy had trouble wit' firs' person when he spoke in English. No matter what Papa tried, Remy would only ever refer to himself in t'ird person. No 'I' or 'my' or 'me' fo' Remy, non. So he took Remy to see a specialist, an' dat's when she said it was a confidence problem 'cause Remy had struggled so much wit' English. Said dat he'd probably grow out o' it, an' to jus' let it be fo' now. So Remy went t'rough school in t'ird person, which o' course made him stand out even mo'." 

"And did you? Grow out of it, I mean." Pietro asked. "I've heard you use first person, so I assume you did." 

"Oui, oui. By de time Remy was in junior high he'd got de hang o' firs' person, mostly 'cause dere were a couple o' teachers who kept insisting he stop usin' t'ird. But by dat time Remy was jus' so used to it dat it sorta… stuck." He shrugged again. "Remy t'ought Papa would tell him to start usin' firs' person mo', but… he didn'. See, dere's dis ot'er reason Remy still uses t'ird as standard." 

"Yeah? What is it?" Pietro leant forward now, curious. 

"It was Papa who realised it firs'. See, Remy's always had some issues wit' lettin' people in – when you grow up as de kid wit' demon eyes, it tends to have a negative effect, non? So he distanced himself, an' usin' t'ird person added to dat. See it's less personal dat way, non?" Pietro nodded, understanding. "So when Remy asked Papa why he didn' try to force Remy into usin' firs' person, he explained dat he knew Remy needed to keep dat distance to protect himself. Besides, he said, dat way it's even mo' special when he uses firs' person." He smiled, swirling his drink again. "See when Remy refers to himself in firs' person, it means he trusts de people he's wit', it means he's okay wit' lettin' dem close. He's connectin' wit' dem." 

"Your father sounds like a smart man." Pietro smiled, letting that information sink in for a moment. Remy had used first person around him – and only when they were alone together. Did that mean Remy trusted him? Was he connecting with him? 

"Oh, he is." Remy grinned. "People still t'ink it's weird, o' course, but dey usually jus' shrug it off as a quirk now. Honestly? It's mostly habit. But when Remy talks 'bout t'ings close to his heart, sometimes he'll slip into firs'." 

"Like when you talk about your family." Pietro pointed out with a smile, and Remy nodded. "Well, I think it makes you more interesting. I like interesting people." 

"Tryin' ta boost Remy's ego again?" Pietro laughed, and shook his head. 

"Not this time. I mean it. I don't like boring people. I like people who can tell fascinating stories of life experiences, or who have interesting pasts or quirks," he grinned over at Remy, "that make them stand out from the crowd. I guess that's why I've mainly worked solo in Homicide. Jubilee's interesting, and she's a lot of fun, but most of the other detectives just… aren't interesting enough for me, I guess." 

"Well, Remy's gon' take dat as de highest compliment." He downed the rest of his drink, and set the glass down on the table. "You up fo' anot'er, or is dis enough socialisin' fo' you?" Pietro considered his options – and was oddly touched that Remy had given him an opportunity to leave without him feeling bad for cutting it so short. 

"I think I could have another." Ah, what the hell, why not? He was enjoying himself. 

\-- 

"You're home later than usual." Pietro winced as he hung up his coat, and he turned to look over at his father, who stood in the doorway to the living room. 'Another drink' had turned into several, and he technically shouldn't have driven home. He'd kept under the speed limit just in case, and luckily traffic hadn't been too bad. If he'd turned up in a cab or taken the subway, his father would have demanded to know what he'd been doing, and there would be a fuss about having to take him to work the next morning. 

"I was with the Lieutenant." Stick to titles, and it would play off as work. "Time got away from me." Erik studied him for a moment, and then let it drop. Logan was watching the Lieutenant, and if there was something he should know about, the Captain would tell him. 

"Crystal called earlier." The very name put him on edge, and he forced back a groan. In the space of a few seconds he ran through the reasons why she would call – and then panic clutched at him. 

"Luna-," 

"Is fine." Erik said quickly, and calmly. It had been his first thought, too. He understood that panic. "Nothing's wrong. She was merely asking if your weekend with Luna could be brought forward a week. She and Ronan are going away for the weekend and assumed you would prefer to have Luna instead of her staying with someone else." 

"Oh." Well, that was a surprise. A nice surprise, of course. "Well of course." 

"I told her that would be fine." Erik smiled, as he always did when Luna was the subject of conversation. "I assume you will have no trouble keeping the weekend free, since you seem to be on good terms with your Lieutenant?" 

"Oh, yes. Uh. It should be fine." Damn, he hadn't thought of that. Still, if they didn't have a case to work, there was very little reason why Remy would need him. "I'll discuss it with him tomorrow." 

"If there's trouble, I can get Logan to-," 

"No, it'll be fine." Pietro cut in quickly. "He can spare me." Erik studied him for a moment, eyes narrowed. 

"You know your Lieutenant's mind very well, do you?" Pietro said nothing, not wanting this to lead into an uncomfortable conversation. "Keep me informed. If he cannot spare you, we will have to make arrangements for Luna." 

"Yes, father." Erik turned on his heel and left, and Pietro took off his boots and went straight up to his bedroom. He knew he should probably get some food that wasn't the bowl of fries he'd shared with Remy earlier, but he wasn't in the mood. Even thinking about his ex-wife put a bad taste in his mouth. 

He was glad that his weekend with Luna had been brought forward, however. He hated how long he had to wait between visits, and he wished he had longer with her when she was here. He had no doubt that Remy would let him take the weekend off – after all, he had plenty of detectives if a case came up, and he was definitely understanding enough to not have a problem with it. He'd just bring it up tomorrow morning. He wondered how Remy would react to the news that he had a daughter – and if it would put him off, put an end to the flirting. 

He found himself hoping it wouldn't. 

It was stupid, of course. It didn't matter either way because he wasn't going to let anything happen. The flirting was fine – it was harmless, just a bit of fun – but it would never go any further. He couldn't let it. His father expected him to settle down with a successful marriage to put his previous failure behind him. He expected him not to make the same mistakes again. He didn't even want to think about what might happen if he told his father he was involved with a man, let alone his _superior_. 

He dropped onto his bed and stretched out, groaning as his aching muscles complained. He realised Erik hadn't asked about the incident with the fallen ceiling, and wondered if he either hadn't heard or considered it pointless to discuss since he was obviously fine. Where his father was concerned, it could be either, though he doubted he hadn't heard. Logan had given him a once-over while he'd waited for Remy to come up from the showers, and asked if he was alright. No doubt Logan would have passed on information to Erik. 

Thinking about that brought his mind back to Remy. He _really_ had to stop thinking about him this much, but he couldn't help it. Remy was going to be his downfall, he just knew it.

Before he could stop himself, he was slipping into sleep, and dreaming of that long, lean body stretched out beneath him as his fingers – and then his tongue – traced each individual tattoo, working his way down, and down, and down… 

\-- 

Remy looked more human when Pietro stepped into his office the next day. He'd obviously had a good night's sleep, and the grazes on his face didn't look quite so bad, although he had some bruising that was starting to show. Pietro felt a slight stab of guilt, because asides from some aches and bruising from where he'd hit the floor, he looked relatively uninjured in comparison. He'd neglected the top few buttons on his shirt – as usual – and Pietro's gaze focused on that smooth tan skin for just a moment longer than was appropriate. He forced back a blush as he recalled the rather pleasant dream he'd had last night, and the embarrassing clean-up he'd had to do when he woke. 

"Um. Sir?" Remy looked up, and instantly smiled. 

"Ah, Pietro. What can Remy do fo' you?" He stepped further into the office, and wondered how he should phrase his request. 

"I was just wondering if it was possible to get the weekend off?" He asked, dragging his hand through his hair. "It'd just be Saturday and Sunday, and if I could leave a little early tomorrow evening, that'd be good, but that's not as important." Remy lifted an eyebrow. 

"Dere a reason you need de time off, Detective?"

"Ah, well…" He sighed. "I have a guest, and…" _Just tell him, Pietro. You know he loves kids, so what's the problem?_  

"Pietro, yo' Remy's partner an' one o' de few competent cops in dis division." Remy pointed out. "He needs you here, so unless dis guest o' yo's is royalty, den Remy can' give you bot' days at dis short notice." 

"I understand, sir, but…" He paused, and sighed again. "If I could just have a half-day on Saturday, then? I can make arrangements if needed-," he broke off, and dragged his fingers through his hair again, "-it's just… ah, hell. My ex-wife is going away, so it's my weekend with my daughter." There was an instant shift, and Pietro noticed it straight away. "I just need a few hours to-," 

"Take de whole weekend." Remy cut in, his smile gentle. "An' next time, lead wit' dat, oui?" 

"Sir?" He blinked, surprised, and Remy gave him a shrug. 

"A fat'er should have time wit' his kid." Pietro wasn't entirely sure if he was meant to hear the heavy tone of sadness in Remy's voice, but he did, and wondered at it. "Remy'll make do wit'out you fo' a couple o' days. You can head out early tomorrow, too, if you need to." 

"I… thank you, sir." He smiled, grateful. "It means a lot." Remy waved him off, and Pietro turned, ready to leave. 

"How old?" He turned back, the smile on his face growing as he thought about his little angel. 

"Five." He told him. "Her name's Luna." He hesitated, and because Remy now _looked_ sad, he moved to sit in the visitor's chair. "She wasn't planned, but I'd never go back and change what happened. She's the only reason I got married, really. Didn't feel like it at the time, of course, but looking back… if Crystal hadn't been pregnant I don't think we'd have got married when we did." He sighed a little. "I loved her, but… we weren't right together, not for long-term. But I got my little girl out of that relationship, so I can't complain." 

"Dey're wonderful t'ings, kids, non?" Remy smiled, and Pietro wanted to ask why he looked so sad. "You go spend as much time as you can wit' yo' baby girl, Pietro. Remy would never keep you from her. You ever need to take time off to be wit' her fo' whatever reason, you jus' come righ' here an' Remy'll see what he can do." 

"Thanks, really." Pietro stood again, lingering by the desk. He wasn't used to seeing Remy like this, and it concerned him. "You wanna grab some lunch later? I'll probably get absorbed in work and forget, so…" Now when Remy smiled, it reached his eyes and chased away the shadows. 

"Dat sounds good. Remy'll come by an' kick yo' ass out o' dat chair, eh?" Pietro laughed. 

"I'll count on it, sir." When he left the office, he felt better for knowing that he'd made Remy smile again, but he was still curious about the grief he'd seen creep into his face. He wouldn't pry, not until he was invited to, but he couldn't help but wonder. 

Back in his office, Remy pulled his wallet from his pocket and flipped it open, and then carefully dug into a slot carefully concealed behind several others. He pulled out the neatly folded object he kept tucked there where no one would know to look for it, and with a quick glance up at the door to make sure he was alone, he unfolded it. 

The boy in the photograph had the most beautiful smile, his coppery-brown hair sticking up in all sorts of directions, red-on-black eyes bright with joy as he held on tightly to the tiny little girl who shared his smile. She was barely more than two years old – he no more than four – and sat happily between her brother's legs on the beach, beautiful pale eyes shining as she hugged her brother's arm to her chest. 

Feeling tears burn his eyes, he hurriedly folded the photograph up and tucked it back into his wallet, cursing himself for bringing it out at work. He'd promised himself he wouldn't look at it, wouldn't torture himself again and again. Carrying it was enough. Looking at it only made things ten times worse, and reminded him of things he couldn't change. 

He glanced through the window to where Pietro sat, and a smile tugged at his lips. He'd never have imagined Pietro had a child, or that he'd once been married. Even though he knew people often started young – hell, _he_ had, technically – he'd never considered the idea because Pietro was still so young. Not that it changed anything, of course. In fact, Pietro was perhaps even more attractive to him than before, though he couldn't exactly pinpoint why. It was probably a single father thing. 

He busied himself with work for as long as possible, finishing up the reports from the Jenko-Kingston case. He arranged for a grief counsellor to stop by both families over the next couple of days to speak with them – neither had requested it, but he knew it couldn't hurt. He glanced at the time, and then he pushed up and went to Pietro's desk. 

"Fancy an early lunch?" Pietro looked up, and immediately closed down the file he was working on. 

"Of course." He was in a good mood, that was obvious, and Remy wasn't going to question it. Jubilee looked up as Pietro grabbed his jacket, and flashed them a grin. 

"Think I'm gonna start calling you two 'Spirk'." She laughed, and Remy grinned back at her. 

"You t'ink dat's accurate den, eh?" She sent him a wink, and Remy winked right back at her. Pietro glanced between them, and frowned. 

"I'm sorry – what?" He asked, confused. "What's Spirk?" 

"Google it." Jubilee laughed, waving him off. "I'm not going to explain a nerd reference to you." Pietro rolled his eyes. 

"Whatever, Jubes." He strode towards the elevator. "C'mon, Lieutenant. I'm hungry." Remy laughed, and jogged to catch up with him. 

"One day Remy's gon' sit you down an' yo' gon' watch Star Trek, jus' you wait." He grinned, draping his arm around Pietro's shoulders. Pietro smiled, realising that was starting to become a common occurrence, and he didn't actually mind it. Which was strange, considering he wasn't exactly a physical person. It had been one of the reasons he'd ended up breaking things off with Crystal – she'd hated how closed off he was at times. And yet… with Remy, it felt natural. He could definitely get used to it. 

And that told him he was already in trouble with regards to his feelings for the Lieutenant. 

"Uh huh?" Pietro rolled his eyes. "That's not going to happen." Remy leant in closer. 

"Wanna bet on dat?" Oh god, he could smell his aftershave again. "Remy gets what he wants, ya know." Pietro took a step back, and he felt his mouth go dry as Remy crowded him against the wall. 

"Is that so?" He licked his lips, trying to ignore how he could feel the heat from Remy's body. "Well I hate to break it to you, but it's not going to happen that way this time." Remy grinned, his other hand lightly stroking down Pietro's arm. 

"Remy does like a challenge." 

"Yeah?" He angled his head a little, a smirk playing on his lips. "You like the thrill?" 

"Love it." He leant in closer, so close… and then the elevator pinged, and the doors began to open. Remy stepped back with a smirk. "So… where shall we go fo' lunch?" 

Pietro took a moment to will his blood back up to his head, and then stepped out after him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro finally snaps.

There was a dark cloud hovering over Pietro when he came back to work after the weekend. He huddled at his desk, glaring at the screen as he finished up a few reports and case notes here and there, and barely paid much attention when Jubilee tried to crack a few jokes to get him to smile. She knew the reason behind the low mood, of course – Luna had gone back home to her mother, and Pietro hated that he had to say goodbye every time. He'd be back to normal within a couple of days, but for now he was miserable. 

When he stepped into Remy's office after he'd finished his paperwork, the permanent scowl had at least faded into nothing, but he was still in a foul mood. Remy studied him for a moment before he gestured for him to sit, and then caught him up on what had happened over the weekend.

"We didn' catch a case, so you didn' miss much." He began, his eyes on Pietro's face. "Jubilee closed up a double homicide – young woman decided to pump her ex-boyfriend full o' holes, an' de young man he was currently warmin' de bed wit'. Apparently she couldn' handle de fact he'd dumped her fo' a guy." Remy shrugged one shoulder, and felt a spark of irritation when Pietro gave no reaction – physical or vocal. "She seemed to be mo' pissed dat he'd hidden de fact he was into guys from her. Can understand dat a lil'." That got a reaction from him, just as he'd hoped.

"Considering she went and killed him, I can see why he didn't tell her." He snapped, staring Remy down for a moment. "When we live in a world where your sexuality doesn't get you killed, _then_ people can judge others for not being out." 

"Are we gon' have dis argument again, Pietro?" Remy raised an eyebrow, sitting back in his chair as he watched the younger man closely. He knew it was probably a bad idea to wind him up on purpose, but if Pietro was going to be in a bad mood then he'd rather him let out the anger here than on the job. 

"No, sir." Pietro growled through gritted teeth. "I was merely making a statement." 

"Good." Remy waved a hand in dismissal. "So how was yo' weekend?" 

"Fine." _Ah, so dat's what crawled up yo' ass an' died._  

"Well, Remy appreciates dat yo' in a low mood after yo' girl went back to her mot'er, but Remy can' have you mopin' around de station, Pietro. He understands dat it's hard-," he went to reach across the desk, to touch a hand to Pietro's arm in sympathy, but Pietro jumped up out of the chair before he could. 

"You understand?" Pietro hissed. "You don't understand. You can't. So you can't sit there and tell me to stop 'moping' or to lighten up or anything because you can't possibly know what I'm feeling right now." He paused, straightened his shoulders. " _Sir_." He didn't wait for Remy to respond, or for a dismissal – he turned on his heel, and stormed out of the office. 

"Remy can' understand, eh?" Remy muttered as Pietro strode away. "Oh, non, Remy knows _not'in'_ 'bout havin' to say goodbye to yo' own flesh an' blood." Now _he_ was in a bad mood. He pushed up from his desk and strode through the bullpen, barely sparing Pietro a glance as he did so. "You need Remy, you can find him in de gym. Don' come to him unless it's important." He needed to work off some steam before he said something he'd regret. 

He went down to the station's gym, thankful that it was mostly empty at this time of day. Come end of shift he imagined it'd be pretty busy. He stripped down and changed into shorts and a tank, and hopped up onto a treadmill, intending to run for a good ten or twenty minutes to start off. He set the speed fairly high, slipped on a pair of headphones, and lost himself in the workout. 

He knew he shouldn't be angry with Pietro. The detective didn't know anything about the two kids he'd lost, and how much it had destroyed him when they were taken from him. He couldn't have known how much his words had stung. He had to push it aside and forget it happened. He brought his run down to a jog, and then he slowed to a stop and stepped down from the treadmill, heading over to the water fountain to get a drink. 

Pietro hovered in the doorway, trying to work up the nerve to go in and confront Remy. He'd been standing there for several minutes, watching the Lieutenant run, hesitating partly because he didn't want to disturb him, and partly because it was mesmerising to watch him. He contemplated just going back up to Homicide, and leave him to it – but then Remy turned, and saw him. 

"Detective." He reached up and pulled the headphones off. "Remy t'ought he said not to disturb him unless it was important."

"I know, sir." He stepped forward, and sighed. "I wanted to apologise for snapping at you. It's hard watching her go, yes, but that's no excuse for how I behaved. So… I'm sorry." 

"Non. Don' apologise." Remy waved him off. "Remy pushed you at de wrong time, dat's all. Let's jus'… fo'get it happened, eh?" He walked over, and clapped a hand on Pietro's shoulder. 

"Yeah, that sounds good." Pietro nodded, offering a faint smile. "I guess moping around isn't really doing much good, anyway." Remy slid his hand up from Pietro's shoulder, and round to the back of his neck. 

"Talkin' is usually de better option." He smiled back at him, stepping closer. Pietro wanted to take a step back, to put distance between them, but his body wouldn't co-operate with him. "If not wit' Remy, den wit' a friend." 

"You are my friend." Pietro murmured without thinking. Remy's smile widened, and brightened, and his other hand now shifted to rest on Pietro's hip. "I, sorry, that's really unprofessional, I…" 

"Stop talkin'." Remy cut in smoothly, fingers sliding up into his hair. Pietro stepped back now, but his hands came up to clutch at Remy's arms, and the Cajun moved with him – and for the second time in only a few days, Pietro found himself crowded up against a wall. "Don' ruin it, Pietro. Dat's one o' de nicest t'ings you've said to Remy." A knee pushed between his, and the long, firm length of Remy's thigh pressed intimately between his legs. 

"Well, it… it's true." He licked his lips, trying not to press back against him. He had to stop this now, before it got too far. The gym had cameras, anyone could walk in… and he was dangerously close to giving in and sliding his hand down into those shorts. "Isn't it?" 

"Oui." Remy murmured, his breath hot against Pietro's cheek. _Oh, fuck it_ , Pietro thought, his eyes beginning to slip closed as he angled his head up just a fraction, leaning in _just_ enough- 

"Shit." Pietro felt his phone vibrate in his pocket – which certainly didn't help matters – and he pushed Remy back so he could retrieve it. He glanced at the screen before he answered, and quickly slid away from the Lieutenant. "Detective Maximoff. Yes… thank you. No, I'll inform him." He cut off the call and turned to Remy. "We've got a case. Sounds like it's an open-and-shut case but the first on scene asked for you."

"Righ'. Remy'll go change." He hesitated, giving Pietro a long look before he stepped around him to the locker room. Pietro groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. The heat in that gaze had been enough to set his lust ablaze, and unless he got control of it before Remy came back, he'd have to go grab a cold shower. He couldn't keep doing this – especially not in the station. Someone was going to catch them, and that would be the end of everything. 

He couldn't let that happen. 

\-- 

The case did prove to be an open-and-shut case – a neighbour had called the cops after overhearing raised voices and questionable sounds coming from the apartment next door, and when two uniforms had arrived on scene they found the husband sitting on the sofa with blood on his hands and the body of his wife in the kitchen. He claimed it was an accident, that she'd slipped and fallen onto the knife, but even an idiot could see through that. As the uniforms hauled the husband away, Remy watched him go and sighed.

"All because he t'ought she was cheating on him." Remy shook his head a little. "Sometimes dese cases are a lil' too cliché, non?" 

"It's gotta come from some truth though." Pietro pointed out as he went through the notes he'd made of the scene. "It's one of the most common motives." He tucked the notebook away. "At least this one will be easy to close – we already have his confession. Back to the station?" 

"Oui. Remy'll leave de paperwork to you, eh?" He grinned as they walked down to the street. "So, why did de uniforms request Remy?" 

"From what I know, Cortez was their other option." Pietro smirked. "And they didn't want to deal with him. He has some… issues, when it comes to uniforms. Treats them like dirt." 

"Seems like he treats everyone like dirt." Remy murmured as they climbed into his car. "He's got a real attitude problem. Still… he has his uses. He gave us a lead in de Jenko-Kingston case, after all." 

"Yeah, I suppose so." Pietro sat back in the seat with a sigh. "Probably only did it so he'd get credit for it. Most people get into this line of work for personal reasons or because they want to make a difference. Cortez? He's jumped around a couple of divisions in his time. He does it just for the credit." 

"Remy's known men like him befo'. He'll transfer out in de end, if he don' get fired." Remy shrugged. "Remy don' often work cases dat easy, ya know. Makes a nice change." He paused. "Not dat any case is nice, o' course." 

"I know what you mean. The bigger cases are exhausting, and the serial cases…" Pietro shook his head. "Every time we find a new body, it's worse." He glanced over at Remy. "I looked up that case you worked, back in Louisiana." 

"Nine." Remy murmured. "In de end, he claimed nine. Youngest was eighteen, jus' startin' out. She was gon' be a doctor." His hands clutched the wheel tightly, and Pietro reached out to put a hand on his arm. "Couldn' stop him from takin' de last one. Got dere too late. Took de bastard down, t'ough." 

"That's what matters. You stopped him." Pietro hadn't worked a big case like that, and certainly not as primary, but he'd worked on enough serial cases to know that the people involved began to shoulder the guilt when the body count rose. He couldn't imagine how Remy had felt with the guilt of nine deaths hanging over him. 

"Oui. Guess so." Remy nodded, giving him a smile. "Ey… you wanna go fo' a drink tonight?" When Pietro hesitated, he shrugged. "Or… you, ah… never mind." 

"How about dinner?" Pietro smiled back at him.

"You askin' Remy on a date?" Remy grinned, and Pietro rolled his eyes. 

"It's not a date." He muttered, mentally kicking himself for making it sound like one. "Just dinner between friends." 

"Well… count Remy in. After shift ends?" When Pietro nodded, Remy grinned. "Well den, Remy can' wait. He'll trust in yo' decision fo' where we go. Remy still needs to get to know de good places 'round here." 

"I know a good place. It's probably best if I drive us there, and then I can drop you back at the station to pick up your car." Pietro paused as Remy pulled into the station garage, and he climbed out of the car. "If that's alright with you?" 

"Sounds good to Remy, oui." He nodded, locking the car. "Now, let's go wrap dis case up, and Remy'll give his oral report to de Captain." They rode up to Homicide together, and Pietro dropped down behind his desk as Remy turned in the direction of Logan's office. "If we don' catch anyt'in' else today, Remy'll see you after shift ends." Jubilee looked up as Remy disappeared into Logan's office, and sent a sly grin in Pietro's direction. 

"What's happening after shift then?" She asked, scooting her chair closer to Pietro's desk. 

"Nothing. We're just grabbing some food." Pietro shrugged, hoping he could brush it off as nothing. Of course, this was Jubilee – so that wasn't going to happen. 

"Uh huh." She winked. "Oh yeah, definitely Spirk." She pushed back towards her own desk, leaving Pietro to scowl in her direction. He watched her for a moment as she got back to her work, and then he brought up Google and typed in 'Spirk'. He had a feeling he didn't want to know what it was referring to, but if Jubilee was going to insist on calling them that, he felt he _should_ know. 

It barely took him a minute to realise what 'Spirk' was, and he felt heat creeping into his face as he hurriedly closed the webpage. _Of course. Captain Kirk and Commander Spock._ He knew Jubilee was only making a joke – after all, she still had no idea he wasn't as straight as she thought he was – but it still made him uncomfortable. If other people overheard… they might get ideas, and those ideas might get back to his father. 

He buried himself in writing his report of the case, and tried not to think about the couple of images he'd seen before he'd closed down the page, and how he could easily replace the characters with himself and Remy… 

\-- 

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Remy had some of the other detectives in and out of his office with reports, or asking his advice on a case, but nothing new came up – and so when end of shift came around, he found himself eager to finish up. He thought back to the gym, and Pietro calling him a friend, and he smiled. 

He didn't exactly have many friends, and certainly none in New York. Not at the moment, in any case. Pietro was his first. 

He grabbed his coat and shut everything down for the day, and tried to hold back the skip in his step as he went to collect Pietro from his desk. When Jubilee sent him a knowing look and a sly wink, he merely grinned at her – and he draped his arm around Pietro's shoulders as they made their way out of the station, pleased that Pietro didn't even tense this time. The detective was clearly getting used to the physical contact – and wasn't pushing him away. It was a good sign.

"It's not far, but driving is easier." Pietro said to him as they walked through the garage to Pietro's car. Remy slipped into the passenger's seat as soon as Pietro unlocked it, and settled himself back. 

"Dis will be interestin'." He grinned as Pietro climbed in. "Remy gets to make comments on yo' driving now." 

"My driving is ten times better than yours." Pietro rolled his eyes as he started the engine. "I actually pay attention to speed limits and other drivers." 

"You mean you drive like yo' seventy years old." Remy jabbed him in the ribs, still grinning. Pietro scowled at him, and swatted at his arm. He couldn't help but smile, however, at the oddly playful nature of it all. "So we gon' get dere befo' Remy starts getting' grey hairs or what?" Pietro rolled his eyes again, but he reversed out of the parking space, and drove out onto the street. 

"You're already getting grey hairs." He murmured dryly, and smirked when Remy subtly glanced in the rearview mirror. 

"Am not." He huffed. "Besides, ain' like you can talk." Remy reached over, and tugged at a loose strand of Pietro's hair. 

"My hair is _white_." Pietro corrected. "And has been since I was born. It has nothing to do with age." He sent Remy a sly glance. "And when I get to that age, at least it won't be obvious. Unlike you and that untidy mess of dark hair, just waiting to go grey." 

"Please." Remy waved him off. "You t'ink Remy won' jus' dye his hair to hide dem?" He grinned, and Pietro laughed. 

"You Southern cops." He murmured, shaking his head with a grin. "Is it a requirement for southern cops to have egos the size of Texas, or is it just you?" 

"Yo' lucky we're not on duty, Mr Maximoff." Remy smirked. "Ot'erwise Remy migh' t'ink yo' sassin' yo' superior." 

"I would do no such thing, sir." Pietro laughed as Remy rolled his eyes. He found a parking space not far from the restaurant he'd thought of, and they walked together, Pietro not minding when Remy yet again draped an arm around his shoulders. They were guided to a table for two near the back, and Pietro tried not to think about how this had an oddly romantic feel to it – secluded near the back, the lighting dimmer here, and even a damn candle on the table. 

"Dis seems like a nice place." Remy murmured as they sat down, and opened up their menus. 

"It is. Everything on the menu is great – I've probably tried most of it." Pietro smiled, glancing at the menu even though he already knew what he was going to have. "And Luna loves it here."

"Kids can be real picky, too." Remy nodded. "Well, Remy'll trust yo' judgement den." The conversation paused as the waiter took their drinks orders – and then took their food orders since both of them were ready. "So… you sure dis isn't a date, Pietro?" 

"I… it's not." Pietro willed himself not to blush. He usually wasn't the type for blushing, not unless he was seriously embarrassed, but Remy just brought it out of him. "I'm not much of a drinker, that's all, and… I just thought it would be nice for us. As partners. Work partners." Remy smirked over at him, raising an eyebrow. 

"Do you have some sort o' problem wit' being seen goin' to dinner wit' anot'er man, Pietro? You jus' seem to like statin' dat dis is platonic." Pietro didn't answer for a moment as the waiter brought their drinks over, and then he sighed. 

"No, I don't. I really don't." He shook his head. "I just… with everything that gets said at the station, I just don't want people to get the wrong idea." He sipped, and glanced at Remy over the rim of his glass. "My superior included." 

"Oh, don' worry, Remy don' believe de bullshit he's heard 'bout you." He shrugged. "An' neit'er does anyone wit' half a brain. Mostly 'cause dey seem to t'ink yo' straight as an arrow." Pietro nearly choked on a mouthful of wine. "Remy knows better dan dat."

"I-," 

"Pietro, even de most laid back heterosexual man would be uncomfortable wit' being pressed up against walls by anot'er man." Remy pointed out. "An' Remy knows dis 'cause he's worked wit' dem a lot. An' whilst you do look uncomfortable on occasion, it ain' 'cause yo' straight." Okay, _now_ he was blushing. Damnit. "Why do you hide it?" 

"It's personal." Pietro sighed, knowing there was no use in denying it. "I like to keep my personal life and my work life separate as much as possible. Is that so bad?" 

"Non. But surely you'd tell yo' friends, non? Or is it 'cause your friends happen to be cops, too, an' dey might be overheard by a certain police commissioner?" Remy studied Pietro's face when he said nothing. "If he don' accept you-," 

"Can we not talk about my father?" Pietro cut in. "Let's just say I have my reasons, and leave it at that. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone." 

"Oh, dat's not Remy's place. He'd never do dat unless given permission." He shook his head. "But you shouldn' hide who you are, Pietro. It ain' righ'." 

"It's not that simple." He sighed again, dragging his fingers through his hair. "It's never been that simple." He drank, and then changed his angle. "Was it that simple for you?" 

"Fo' Remy? Oui, pretty much." He shrugged one shoulder. "If Papa wasn' so open an' accepting, it migh' have been really difficult. Remy was raised Cat'olic, see, an' so was Papa. We've never been dat religious, but it's a family t'ing, y'know? But obviously dere's a certain opinion regarding homosexual relationships, an' it could have been a problem. But Papa didn' care eit'er way, so long as Remy was happy." 

"So… how did you tell him?" There was a pause as their food was brought over, and both of them had their wine topped up.

"Well, dis smells fantastic." Remy murmured, and then he smiled. "Remy didn' tell him as such, but… well, Papa caught him makin' out wit' a guy in his car one night, so dat kinda gave it away." Pietro laughed a little as Remy grinned. "See Remy kinda put religion behind him 'cause he didn' want to be associated wit' people who tried to say people deserved to burn in hell jus' 'cause o' who dey love, an' dat's 'bout de time he explored his sexuality. He was worried dat Papa wouldn' approve, but he didn' care when Remy started bringin' boys home as well as girls." 

"What about your brother, did he approve?" Remy didn't answer for a moment, too busy enjoying the food. 

"Dis is delicious. Remy will trust yo' judgement from now on, oui." He grinned. "An' Henri? O' course he did. Dat boy looked up to Remy so much – big brot'er an' all dat. Sure de two o' us would fight from time to time, but we were close. Remy don' t'ink Henri was into de boys too, but he didn' care eit'er way. He asked questions at firs', cause he was curious, but he jus' accepted it." He paused. "Do yo' sisters know?" 

"I… I don't know." Pietro shrugged. "I want to say they don't, but… well, Wanda always knew everything. Probably a twin thing. I've never actually told them, and they've never asked, so I can't be sure. Either they don't know, or they do and it doesn't bother them. Honestly? I'm hoping it's the latter." He sighed. "Although if they know, then there's a chance-," he broke off, putting down his fork so he could pick up his wine to swallow several mouthfuls. 

"Why are you so worried 'bout yo' fat'er knowing? Has he given you any reason to t'ink he'd react badly?" Pietro frowned, and Remy held up a hand. "You don' want to talk 'bout it, Remy knows, but Pietro… he's obviously de only reason yo' keepin' it a secret." 

"I've already disappointed him, okay?" He put the glass down before he downed the lot. "I thought I was doing something good when I married Crystal, and gave him a granddaughter, but then my marriage fell apart and I got a divorce and although he never said a thing I _know_ he was disappointed. Wanda's got a successful, happy marriage, and my nephews are already promising students at school. Lorna's in a long-term relationship, and things are going great for them. Neither of them have fucked up as bad as I have." 

"An' you t'ink he'll be disappointed dat you migh' some day be in a relationship wit' a man?" 

"I don't know what he'll think, or do, but I know he won't be happy." 

"Pietro…" Remy reached over the table, and took his hand. The intimacy of the gesture had Pietro wanting to pull back, but he couldn't. "You need to t'ink real hard 'bout what's mo' important here – yo' fat'er's happiness, or yo' own." 

"It's easy for you." Pietro shook his head, pulling his hand free at last. "You haven't disappointed your father like I have mine." 

"You don' know dat." Remy grinned. "Remy's Papa is a lawyer, an' his eldest boy goes around breakin' laws jus' to be a lil' shit. You t'ink he was never disappointed? You t'ink he wasn't disappointed dat Remy chose de force over de courtroom?" He shrugged. "Besides, we've all fucked up at some point, we've all disappointed parents." And although Jean-Luc had never blamed him, he knew his father had been disappointed when those two beautiful children were taken from them. "Like dis one time, Remy had been suspended from school 'cause he set fire to somet'in' in de science lab…" 

And just like that, the conversation shifted – and Pietro was glad to move on and settle into something more comfortable, something he could laugh at and enjoy. 

\-- 

"So how the hell did you get up onto the roof?" 

"Honestly? Remy don' remember." Remy laughed, his arm slung around Pietro's shoulders as they walked through the station garage to Remy's car. "He jus' woke up an' dere he was. T'ankfully, it hadn't rained dat nigh'." Pietro shook his head with a laugh. 

"You sure have a lot of amusing stories to tell." They slowed to a stop beside Remy's car, and Remy let his arm drop from around Pietro's shoulders. "I feel like my life is so boring compared to yours." 

"Dat's 'cause it is, Pietro." Remy teased, jabbing a finger into his ribs again. Pietro caught his wrist with one hand, and twisted it around and up behind his back, pressing Remy against his car. "Oh, is dat how we gon' play? Should Remy give you de safe word?" 

"You're an idiot." Pietro muttered, but he was grinning. He released him, and Remy shifted until they were facing each other again. When Pietro moved to step away, Remy caught him around the waist and tugged him back. "Remy-," 

"Why do you fight it?" He murmured, his other hand lifting to cup Pietro's jaw. "You don' have to." Pietro closed his eyes, leaning into his touch, and a slight shiver travelled down the length of his spine as Remy's thumb brushed against his bottom lip. 

"I do." He breathed out, opening his eyes. "I… I can't…" He had to go, he had to leave before things got out of hand – but then Remy's lips brushed his, and his head gave way to his heart. He gave in for only a moment, just long enough to taste the wine Remy had been drinking and the chocolate cake he'd had for dessert, and then he pulled back sharply, putting as much distance between them as he could. "Goodnight, Lieutenant." As he nearly tripped over himself trying to get away, Remy sighed in frustration, and got into his car. 

So close. So very damn close. 

By the time he got back to his apartment, his frustration had started to develop into anger. He was tired of Pietro pushing him away when it was obvious it wasn't what he wanted to do. He was tired of Pietro hiding, of putting other people's happiness before his own, and it was really starting to piss him off. If it carried on like this, he'd end up confronting Erik himself and risking his job. 

He pushed the anger aside when he stepped into the apartment, and focused his mind on feeding the cats and fussing over them for a few minutes to make up for how much time he'd spent away from them lately, and then he moved through to the bedroom to strip down into something more comfortable. The evening had been going well – even if Pietro had claimed it wasn't a date, dinner had been nice, and once they'd moved away from the subject of sexualities and fathers, Pietro had loosened up and had seemed to be having a good time. 

It had been progress, but then as soon as they'd taken a step forward, they'd ended up taking two steps back again. Dressed now in a loose t-shirt and a pair of boxers, he wandered back into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge, Oliver weaving between his legs as he opened it and took a long swig. He bent, scooping the cat up in one arm, and carried him through to the living room before dropping him carefully onto the sofa. He'd watch some TV whilst he relaxed, and he wouldn't think about how frustrated he was getting when it came to the white-haired detective. 

He was ten minutes into a cop show – which he watched mostly for his own amusement at some of the inaccuracies – when someone buzzed up from downstairs. Frowning, he moved to the intercom, and checked the camera. He raised his eyebrows when he recognised the head of white hair, and he buzzed him through. What was Pietro doing here – and how did he know where he lived? Lucifer jumped up into his arms as there was a knock at the door a few minutes later, and Remy carried him to the door, opening it to reveal Pietro. 

"How'd you know where Remy lives?" He asked, noting how Pietro looked more than a little annoyed. Lucifer yowled in his arms, and twisted to hop up onto his shoulder.

"I looked it up." Pietro snapped, stepping right up into Remy's personal space. "Because I didn't want to do this at work." 

"Do what, exactly?" Sensing this was going to get tense, Remy gave Lucifer a nudge, and the cat hopped down and disappeared into the apartment. 

"Who do you think you are?" Pietro hissed. "What gives you the right to poke around in my personal life like that, huh? You think you can just strut in here, into _my_ cop house, and dig your claws into me like you own me?" Remy raised his eyebrows, but chose to say nothing. "Your behaviour at work is unacceptable, _sir_ , and actually borders on sexual harassment. You're lucky I haven't reported it to the Captain – or the Commander." 

"Is dat so?" 

"And then when I decide to open up to you despite that, you try and fuck with business that isn't yours. You try to change things I don't want changed, and you don't fucking _give up_ , and then you go and kiss me and that's not okay, Remy!" Pietro stared him down, his cheeks flushed with anger – and god, did he look _hot_. "I was fine before you got here, and now… now I just… I just want to…" He stepped forward, one hand grabbing the front of Remy's shirt – and then he yanked him down for a hard, fierce kiss. 

Remy did nothing for a moment, waiting to see if Pietro would pull away and run yet again – but when he only kissed him harder, he realised there would be no running this time. He returned the kiss with as much heat as Pietro was giving him, and he tugged him into the apartment so he could kick the door closed. Pietro's fingers twisted into Remy's hair as he deepened the kiss, tasting beer on Remy's tongue, and when his back hit the solid surface of the door, he gave a soft moan into Remy's mouth. Remy's fingers worked on loosening Pietro's tie, and he rocked his hips against his, breaking the kiss to trail his lips along Pietro's jaw. Pietro groaned, pushing away from the door to slam Remy up against the wall instead, and he shrugged out of his jacket – letting it fall carelessly to the floor. 

Remy's hands slid down Pietro's back and then around to grasp his hips, tugging him even closer, and he smirked at the tell-tale hardness he could feel against his thigh. He untucked Pietro's shirt, his hands sliding up under to ghost over warm skin, and Pietro brought him into another hot kiss as he rocked against him. Remy shifted, nudging Pietro back away from the wall, and as they staggered along the hall, Pietro kicked off his boots, his hands pushing Remy's shirt up. They twisted, turned, and Pietro's back hit the wall as he tugged Remy's shirt up, up – and off. 

Now Pietro let his hands explore that smooth, muscular chest, fingertips tracing the inked patterns on his skin, loving how Remy shivered beneath his touch, muscles quivering as he stroked over them. When a leg slid between his and pressed close, he tipped his head back with a moan and gave Remy the opportunity to lean in and latch his teeth onto the exposed stretch of his throat. Long, clever fingers made short work of the buttons on Pietro's shirt, and then dropped to his belt, tugging it free in record speed. Remy kissed his way down Pietro's chest, pausing to nip and suck here and there, marking him where it wouldn't be seen. As he lowered to his knees, Pietro swallowed thickly, and twisted one hand into the untidy dark hair as Remy's fingers worked at unbuttoning his trousers. 

In one smooth motion, Remy pushed his trousers and underwear down to his knees, and those long, clever fingers wrapped around his length and gave a single, teasing stroke. Pietro gasped, his head tilting back sharply enough to thump back against the wall, and his fingers tightened in Remy's hair. 

"Fuck." He breathed out, tipping his head forward so he could look down at him, his mouth going dry as Remy leant in, and curled his tongue around the head. "Oh, _god_." It had been far too long since anyone had done this to him, and he had a feeling Remy was going to be very, very good at it. He gave a few teasing licks, loving how Pietro's legs quivered, and his free hand sought for some kind of purchase on the wall. Remy knew a lot of people who didn't like giving oral – but god, did he _love_ it. He parted his lips, taking the head into his mouth in one slow, teasing motion, trying not to smirk around him as Pietro moaned – a needy, desperate sound that went straight to his own cock. 

He took him in further, and then pulled back, curling his tongue around him as he did so, wincing very slightly as Pietro tugged sharply on his hair. He withdrew, and twisted to nip sharply at the inside of Pietro's thigh, smirking when the younger man yelped a little in surprise. 

"Careful wit' dose hands o' yo's, Pietro." He murmured, his voice low and thick with desire, and he pressed a kiss to the red mark he'd left behind on his thigh. Stroking him again, still at the same slow pace, he kissed his way along the inside of his thigh, nuzzling into him very slightly as his free hand grasped his hip to hold him steady. 

"Remy…" He tugged on his hair, urging him to stand, and so Remy complied, keeping one hand wrapped around his length. "Don't tease." He demanded, kicking off his trousers and his underwear so he could lock a leg around Remy's. "I want you, right now." As if to emphasise his point, he slid his hand down into Remy's boxers, and gripped him. Remy shuddered out a breath, dropping his head forward until his forehead touched Pietro's in an oddly sweet gesture. 

"Don' have to tell Remy twice." He murmured, leaning in for another kiss as he hooked an arm around Pietro's waist, lifting him with surprising ease. Pietro hooked his legs around him as the kiss deepened, and Remy staggered back away from the wall, Pietro's fingers dragging through his hair and clawing across his back. He was aiming for the bedroom, but he paused to rummage into the pocket of one of his coats, pulling out a wrapper and a tube that he remembered he'd left in there. 

"… You keep that stuff in your coat pocket?" Pietro murmured, leaning in to nip at Remy's jaw, tugging on his hair so he'd give him better access. Remy tipped his head back very slightly, his nails digging into Pietro's hip, and he growled very slightly. 

"Never know when you migh' need it." Pietro smirked, and rocked down against him as he nipped at Remy's ear, his tongue soothing the spot a moment later. Remy shivered, and groaned – and then he staggered, and they ended up sprawled on the floor halfway through the bedroom door. "Fuck it. It'll do." Remy muttered, dropping the items in his hand onto the floor as he leant down to kiss along Pietro's collarbone. Pietro kept one leg hooked up over Remy's hip, bucking up with need as the Cajun kissed lower and lower. Frustrated at his slow pace, Pietro used the advantage of surprise and twisted them until their positions were reversed – which, considering the limited amount of space available, was actually rather impressive. 

"You move too slow." He muttered, his hands finding the waistband of Remy's boxers and tugging them down. Remy lifted his hips to make it easier, and in seconds they were gone – and he was stretched out beneath him. Pietro sat back a little, admiring the view displayed before him, and then he reached out, his fingers tracing the arrows that all pointed down towards his prize. "Just like I thought." He said, mostly to himself, and before he could stop himself he was leaning down and tracing the tattoo with his tongue. Remy arched up into him, a long, low moan escaping his lips, and one hand clutched the doorframe tightly. 

"Pietro…" The moan of his name sent a shiver down Pietro's spine, and he moved to give the same treatment to the winding vine that twisted around Remy's thigh. He kissed higher, tongue finding the claw marks slashed across his ribs, and he moved higher, pausing to bite playfully at one nipple, loving the sharp gasp he received in response. "Mon dieu…" He didn't know if it was the French, or the husky tone in which it had been spoken, but a fresh flush of desire spread through him, and he rocked his hips down into Remy's, their lengths brushing together and pulling a moan out of both of them. Before Pietro could register Remy's movement, he found himself once more on his back, one leg hooked up over Remy's shoulder. 

He heard the cap of the tube being flicked open, and then Remy sank lower, tongue dipping into his naval before he moved to trail light kisses along the inside of his other thigh – and then he felt a finger press into him, and he bit down into his bottom lip to hold back the hiss threatening to escape. It had been a very, _very_ long time since he'd fucked a guy this way. Remy could feel how tense and tight he was, and so he moved slowly, and carefully, easing him open gently as his other hand stroked his cock, hoping to distract him from the discomfort. He lowered his head, taking him into his mouth again as he pushed deeper inside, and when Pietro moaned there was nothing but pleasure in it. 

"Remy…" Pietro breathed out, hips shifting, pushing back against him as he crooked his finger inside him, and Remy smiled around him, sucking as he pushed a second finger inside him. "God, _fuck_." Pietro's hands clutched at whatever they could reach, gripping tightly as he tried not to buck up into his mouth. "Remy, I… god, just…" He couldn't even form a coherent sentence. Remy worked him open a little longer, wanting to be absolutely sure there would be as little discomfort as possible, and then he pulled back and reached for the condom. 

"Oh, cher…" He purred, stroking a hand along Pietro's thigh as he lay there, quivering slightly with need. "Remy ain' gon' fo'get dis in a hurry." He grinned at the glare Pietro sent him, and he tore open the wrapper.

"I swear to god, Remy, if you don't hurry I'm just gonna do this without you." Remy applied some extra lubrication just to be on the safe side, and then he hooked Pietro's legs up over his shoulders, and leant forward until he could brace himself against the floor. 

"You won' be sayin' dat once Remy's inside you, mon cher." He murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to Pietro's thigh as he lined himself up. Pietro tensed with anticipation – and his head fell back with a long, low groan as Remy pushed inside. 

" _Fuck_." He gasped out, one hand clutching at Remy's arm as the Cajun hesitated, allowing him to adjust bit by bit. "God, just do it, just fucking-," Remy pushed in deeper, and cut Pietro off sharply. Settled inside him, he took a moment to steady himself, the arm supporting his weight already trembling. _Mon dieu, dis feels even better dan imagined…_  

"You talk too much, Pietro." He murmured, pulling his hips back to give an experimental thrust. Pietro's response was cut off by a moan, and his nails dug deeper into Remy's arm. "Now dat's what Remy likes to hear." He purred, biting back his own moan as Pietro pushed back against him. 

"Do it fast. Fast, and hard." Pietro gasped as Remy thrust again. " _Please_." Well – how could he say no to that? He thrust again, harder, and settled into a quick, almost desperate pace. Pietro moved with him, rocking back, hips bucking, lifting, pushing against him so he thrust in deeper. Their moans and gasps and groans mixed together, a symphony of pleasure accompanied by a mixture of curses and French. 

Pietro's hand shifted, sliding down from Remy's arm to wrap around his own length, and he pumped in time with Remy's thrusts, driving him closer to his peak. When a familiar warmth began to spread through him, he quickened his pace, demanded Remy increase his – and when he tipped over the edge with a final moan, he brought Remy over with him. As he felt warmth splash across his chest, Remy's hand found his free one, and their fingers linked together as he rode out his orgasm. His hips stuttered and then stopped, and Pietro fell back against the floor, his breathing shallow, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

"God." He breathed out, gasping softly as Remy withdrew from him, and Pietro let his legs slide free, letting them fall useless to the floor. Remy's body dropped to sprawl over his, and they lay together in the doorway, hot and sweaty and sticky – and satisfied. 

"Oui…" Remy murmured, nuzzling into his neck very slightly. Pietro closed his eyes, humming softly as Remy kissed down his throat, one hand stroking over his hip. He arched up into his touch as Remy shifted and lapped up the mess he'd made, shivering very slightly when Remy kissed back up to his lips. "Didn' even make it to de bed." Pietro opened his eyes at that – Remy had propped himself up on one elbow, his hand resting almost possessively on Pietro's chest. 

The reality of the situation suddenly hit Pietro like a truck. He'd come here to confront Remy about inappropriate behaviour, and instead he'd slept with him. On the floor. 

"Oh god." His post-coital daze washed away, to be replaced with a stomach-twisting panic. He'd just fucked his superior, his _Lieutenant_ , his very, very _male_ Lieutenant. He'd given in, when he knew he shouldn't, when he knew it was the very last thing he should have done. "Fuck. I…" He sat up, the panic rising to clutch at his heart. His father would find out. His father would find out and the station would find out and that would be the end of his career, the end of everything. "I have to go." 

"Pietro?" Remy sat up slowly, frowning in confusion as Pietro staggered to his feet and began snatching up his clothes. 

"I have to go." He repeated as he tugged them on, hands shaking as he attempted to button his shirt. "This didn't happen. It didn't happen." He ran for the door, and glanced back as he opened it. "I… I can't do this." As Remy watched, stunned into silence, Pietro bolted out the door, and slammed it behind him. Sitting on the floor and staring at the closed door, surprise faded away into anger. 

"Oh no you fuckin' don'." He hissed under his breath. "No one uses Remy an' jus' tosses him aside."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy confronts Pietro.

Pietro nearly called in sick to work the next morning, but he knew Remy would know it for a lie, and probably come looking for him. He'd spent most of the night lying awake in bed, his mind still in a panic over what he'd done, and trying to work out what the hell he was going to do next. He was still awake when his alarm went off, and it took him several minutes to work up the energy to get out of bed. 

He had to keep going, and act like nothing had happened. That was the only way he was going to get through the day. He hurried into the bathroom to take a shower, realising the scent of sweat and sex probably still clung to his skin – and he was thankful that he hadn't run into his father since coming home. There was no way Erik would miss that, and then he'd ask questions about where he'd been. As he stripped down, he caught sight of himself in the mirror, and of the marks Remy had left on his skin. 

Turning away, he stepped under the spray of water, and tried to push it to the back of his mind. If he could just wash away the previous night, he'd be fine. He could do this, he could make it through the day, and then he'd make it through the next, and things would be fine. But how was he supposed to go back to normal when he knew what Remy tasted like, what he felt like pressed so intimately against him – what he felt like _inside him_? Nothing was going to be the same again. 

When he arrived at the station, his stomach was twisting into knots, and the nerves were making him feel sick. The door to Remy's office was shut, and the bullpen was oddly quiet even at this early hour. Cautious, he slid behind his desk, and sent a questioning look over at Jubilee. 

"The boss is in a bad mood this morning." She told him. "No idea why, but he seems pretty pissed." Pietro swallowed thickly, nervously glancing at the office door. "I'd watch your step with him." She perked up a little. "Hey, you two are close, right? Maybe you can talk to him, find out what's wrong?" 

"I…" He couldn't tell her that he was probably the last person Remy wanted to see right now. "Sure." He had to talk to him either way. May as well get it out of the way. Straightening his tie, he stepped up to the office, and knocked on the door. 

"What?" He almost flinched at the sharp snap, but he opened the door even though he wanted nothing more than to run away. He stepped into the office, and tensed when Remy fixed him with a hard, cold stare. Pietro closed the door quietly behind him, and then stood awkwardly for a moment as he tried to figure out what to say.

"Sir, I… last night." His mouth was dry again, and he definitely felt a little sick. "It shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have… it won't happen again. It can't happen again. I'd really appreciate it if we could maybe forget that it happened and-," 

"Is dat all?" Remy's tone was ice. "See, Remy t'ought maybe you'd come in here 'cause you fo'got to pay him last night." His words hit Pietro hard, and his hand hurriedly fumbled back for the doorknob. He'd used Remy – or, at least, that's what it had almost certainly looked like. 

"I… I'm sorry." He stammered out, trying to open the door. "I… I didn't mean to… I…" Nervous and feeling physically ill, he staggered out of the office and away from that icy glare, and he began to make his way towards the bathroom. Jubilee looked up as he hurried past, concern on her face, but he ignored her. He pushed into the bathroom and went to the sink, splashing water on his face as he fought back the nausea. 

He'd really fucked things up now. How would they be able to work together, when Remy felt like he was nothing but a whore to him? No doubt he was already planning to terminate their partnership. But he didn't care about the work. Not this time. He cared more about losing the friend he'd found in Remy. 

"This is why you don't give in, Pietro." He murmured to himself, finally getting control of the nausea. "This is why you can't have what you want." He pushed a hand through his hair, and stepped out of the bathroom – and came face to face with Jubilee. 

"Are you okay?" She was frowning as she peered into his face. "You look really sick. Did you throw up or something?" 

"What? No. I…" The door to Remy's office opened, and the Lieutenant stepped out, his eyes meeting Pietro's across the room. Pietro's hands shook a little, and he shoved them into his pockets, feeling the nausea rising again. "I think maybe I'm not well." 

"Yeah no shit, you look like hell." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey maybe you should go home or something." Pietro glanced over at Remy again, but he couldn't meet that cold gaze for very long. 

"I… yeah maybe I should. Um. Could you tell…?" Jubilee nodded. 

"Sure. Get on home, Pietro. I'll tell the boss." 

"Thanks, Jubes. Sorry, I just… I'm sure I'll be fine." He gave her a weak smile, and then hurried towards the elevator. He couldn't do this. Not now. He'd take a day off, he'd get his head around what he was supposed to do next, and then he'd work on a way to make it up to Remy and see if he could salvage anything of their friendship. He had a feeling nothing was going to save it, not now. Remy had been angry with him before, but this was different. He'd never seen Remy look at him like _that_ before. 

He nearly slipped into a driving style Remy would be proud of in his hurry to get home. Thankfully, Erik had already left for work by the time he got there, so he was able to collapse onto the sofa without worrying about questions. He needed to talk to Wanda – she always knew how to keep him calm – but what could he tell her? Oops, I slept with my boss and now he hates me, what do I do? 

Dragging his phone out of his pocket, he dialled her number – even if he couldn't tell her everything, he needed to hear her voice. She would be at work, of course, but he'd leave her a message and tell her to call him in her break. To his surprise, she answered. 

_"Pietro? Is something wrong?_ " Of course she'd know. She always knew. 

"I've fucked up, Wanda." He groaned, dragging a cushion over his face as he stretched out on his back on the sofa. "I've fucked up at work and I don't know how to fix it." 

_"What did you do?"_  

"I… I can't tell you." He sighed. "Not yet. I… it's bad, though. Really bad. My boss hates me." 

_"I can't help you to fix it if I don't know what's wrong, Pietro._ " There was a pause, and the noise in the background suddenly went quiet. Pietro imagined she'd stepped into her office, away from the bustle of the job. 

"I know. But I just can't tell you right now. It's bad, though. Really bad. I think I can say goodbye to this partnership, and any future in Homicide." And wouldn't that go down well with his father? 

_"You'd have to have done something terrible for him to hate you that much, Pietro. Are you sure you're not just worrying too much over nothing again? I know what you're like. You start to panic, especially when it concerns work or our father, and you inevitably make things worse for it._ " She was right, of course. He _did_ worry too much over these things – but at the same time he really had done something _terrible_. 

"I don't think that's the case here, Wanda. The way he looked at me… I don't think I can come back from this. God, father's going to kill me if I screw this up…"

_"He won't kill you, Pietro._ " He could practically hear her roll her eyes. _"Just take a step back, and look at things from a distance, and with a clear head. Whatever you did, or think you did, there's always a way to make things right, you just need to find what it is. Are you at work right now?_ " 

"No, I… I, ah, came home. Said I felt sick." 

_"So you ran away, again._ " 

"I needed to, Wanda. I-," 

_"I know, Pietro. Maybe it's for the best, because now you can take this time to look at things and see how you can fix it. But we talked about this. You can't keep running away all the time._ " 

"I'm trying, Wanda, I am." He pulled the cushion from his face and sat up, already feeling more relaxed just from hearing his twin's voice. He hated being apart from her. "I just… I need time to think things over. I really don't know how I'm going to make things right here but… I'll try. Thanks." 

_"You just need to stop panicking and keep yourself calm, that's all. There's always a solution. You'll find it._ " There was another pause, and Pietro heard another voice in the background. _"I have to go. I can call you later if you like?_ " 

"That'd be good, yeah. No hurry, though. I don't want to interrupt your day or anything." He dragged his fingers through his hair, and stood to walk through into the kitchen. "What am I going to do if I can't fix this?" 

_"You will. Stop worrying._ " She laughed, a gentle sound. _"I know that's difficult for you, but try. I'll speak to you later, Pietro._ " She blew a kiss down the phone, and Pietro smiled. 

"Bye, Wanda." When she hung up, he dropped the phone onto the counter and sighed. "How the hell can I fix _this_?" 

\-- 

Remy could tell his bad mood was affecting his team – not a single one of them had dropped by his office, not even to make a report or to ask advice on a case, which was a rare thing now. Of course, the closed door probably put them off. After all, he'd stated at the beginning that if his door was closed he probably didn't want to be disturbed. With a sigh, he pushed up from his desk and went to open it again. 

He glanced over at Pietro's desk as he propped the door open, and frowned at the vacant chair. Jubilee had come to him a few minutes after Pietro had bolted from his office and told him Pietro had looked worryingly pale and had gone home sick, and he'd been half tempted to call him up and demand that he get the hell back to work. He'd chosen not to, in the end. He was tired of Pietro running away, but the station wasn't the place to confront him, not if he wanted their professional lives to remain as such. 

No one used him and then threw him aside like it meant nothing. Of course what pissed him off more was knowing that it had meant _something_ to Pietro and yet he still chose to run away from the truth. He probably shouldn't have implied Pietro used him like a whore, but if he was honest, that was how it had felt. Still, the way Pietro had paled instantly had stuck with him, and the fact he felt _guilty_ added to his anger. No – he wouldn't call Pietro back in, but he _would_ find a way to confront him, and in a way that meant Pietro couldn't damn well run away again. 

"Lieutenant." He turned, and met Logan's eyes. The Captain looked no more grumpy than usual, but his tone told Remy that something was amiss. When Logan gestured for him to step into his office, Remy followed. "Close the door." He did so, but he didn't sit when Logan gestured for him to do so. 

"If yo' gon' jump down Remy's t'roat 'bout Pietro, den save it. He's not in de mood fo' it." Logan raised an eyebrow, and then sighed. 

"Alright, look. I'm not asking, and I don't want to know – because Erik is my closest friend and if he asks me I won't lie to him, so the less I know the better for everyone involved. But I'm not blind. I don't know what's going on with you and Pietro – and like I said, I don't want to – but whatever it is… be careful." As Logan watched, fresh anger jumped into Remy's eyes. 

"Or what, eh? Is dere where you t'reaten Remy, tell him to stay away or else he'll find trouble?" 

"I could." Logan shrugged. "But Pietro's a big boy, and can handle himself. A fact his father hasn't quite got his head around just yet, but that's a parent for ya." When Remy said nothing, he went on. "I don't know you very well. I only know what I've read, and what I've seen so far. But I do know Pietro, and although he's far from fragile he's had to deal with a lot of shit in his life. I'm not speaking as his – or your – superior here, Remy. I'm speaking as a friend, as a part of his family. Whatever the hell is going on between you two, I don't want to see that kid get hurt again." 

"Non, you don' know Remy. You don' know shit 'bout Remy." Remy leant on the desk, staring down into Logan's face. "Yo' worried 'bout him, Remy gets dat. He won' hold dat against you since you got a close bond wit' him. But don' be so sure dat Pietro's de one who'll get hurt." He pushed back from the desk, and straightened up. "Is dat all, Captain?" He didn't wait for a response – he was halfway to the door when Logan sighed. 

"If you want to talk to him without him running off…" He dragged a hand through his hair, trying to push back the feelings of guilt at betraying Pietro like this. "Pretend it's work. Get him in the car. It's your best shot." Remy turned, surprised, and Logan shrugged. "You already shook things up when you swept in here all charm and sass, strutting around my cop house and flirting with everything that moved. I don't want things to be shaken up even further because my Lieutenant and his partner can't even bloody look at each other. Now get the hell out of my office." Remy opened the door, and left – but Logan hadn't missed the smile on Remy's face before he'd turned away. "Damn Southern cops." 

\-- 

"You missed work today." Erik stated as he stepped into the living room. Pietro looked up from his laptop where he'd been writing up notes, and prepared himself for a lecture. "Logan told me you felt unwell." Erik sat beside him, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Nothing serious, I hope." 

"Oh. Uh… no, I… I'm feeling alright now." Pietro blinked, surprised at the concern. He knew his father wasn't cold and heartless, of course, but he so rarely showed concern like this that it threw him a little. "I probably just needed to rest up." 

"It's unlike you to miss work." Erik studied him a moment, and then nodded. "But I'm glad it's nothing serious." He stood again. "You probably haven't eaten, so I'll put together-," he broke off as someone knocked on the door, and he frowned as he headed out to the hallway. Pietro sat in stunned silence, trying to get his head around what had just happened. "Pietro!" Curious, he closed the lid of his laptop and set it aside, and wandered out to join his father. 

His heart nearly stopped when he saw who stood on the doorstep. 

"The Lieutenant requires you." Erik told him, stepping back away from the door. Remy inclined his head as he regarded Pietro, noting how he'd gone rather pale again. 

"We got a potential suspect who needs surveillance." Remy told him, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Need you on de job." He paused. "Providin' yo' feelin' better." 

"He is." Erik answered first, putting a hand on Pietro's shoulder. "Though I must say it is unusual for a Lieutenant to partake in surveillance." 

"It's been a long day. Remy don' like to work his men too hard." Remy shrugged. "He also likes to be involved in deir cases. So, Pietro, shall we?" 

"I…" He couldn't say no, not in front of his father, not without a good excuse. He was trapped. "Yes, of course. Sir." He grabbed his coat and hooked his gun and his badge onto his belt, very aware that both Remy and Erik were watching him. 

"I won't wait up, Pietro." Erik told him as he passed by. "But make you sure you eat something." 

"Don' worry, Commissioner. Remy'll make sure he's looked after." There was a smile on Remy's face, but Pietro noticed it didn't reach his eyes. He let the Lieutenant lead him down to the street, and he paused when he realised he couldn't see Remy's sports car parked anywhere nearby. When Remy strode over to a jeep instead, Pietro raised his eyebrows. "De neighbourhood we're goin' to, a sports car would look out o' place. Took dis department issue fo' de job." Remy explained as he climbed in, and Pietro nodded in understanding as he followed suit. 

There was silence in the car as Remy drove to the location, but it wasn't the usual companionable silence he was used to. This was tense, icy, and very awkward. When Remy pulled up on the side of the street and cut the engine, Pietro tried to relax, and focus on the job. 

"What's the situation?" 

"Potential suspect fo' Jenkinson's case. Standard all-night surveillance." Remy told him, gesturing at the building directly ahead and across the street. "Jus' gotta watch him, an' if he leaves, we gotta follow. Not'in' too complicated." Pietro nodded. "He's 'bout six-two, blond hair. Remy'll know him when he sees him." 

"Right." They fell back into silence, though Pietro got the feeling it wasn't going to stay that way for long. 

"So we can sit here an' pretend everyt'in' is jus' fine when we bot' know it isn't, or we can take dis time to actually talk 'bout what happened last night." He fought back the feeling of nausea again. Now wasn't the time. 

"With respect, sir, I-," 

"Don' go all official on Remy, Pietro." Remy looked over at him, and Pietro met his eyes. "Not when he's had you naked an' pantin' beneat' him." Colour rose to Pietro's cheeks, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Remy's still not sure if it's an insult to him or his perfo'mance dat you got up an' left wit'out even a t'ank you." He studied him a moment. "Care to explain what de hell happened?" 

"I didn't… I didn't mean to insult you." He started, though it felt pathetic. "I just…" Remy was staring hard at him, and Pietro knew he wouldn't be able to keep himself steady for long. He thought back to what Wanda had said to him, and he realised that the only way to fix things with Remy was to be brutally honest with him. "I panicked." 

"Panicked? Why?" 

"Because I let myself have what I wanted." He admitted with a sigh. "And nothing good ever comes from that. Because I gave in to temptation, and in doing so I risked everything I've worked so hard for." 

"Bullshit." Remy cut in. "It's mo' dan dat, an' yo' only insultin' Remy mo' by pretendin' ot'erwise. We bot' know dis has mo' to do wit' yo' fat'er dan you want to admit."

"What do you want me to say, Remy?" Pietro turned to face him now, forgetting about the job they were supposed to be doing. "That I'm scared of my father finding out I fucked my superior? Or that I'm more scared of my father finding out I fucked a _man_? Because I am, okay? I'm terrified, on both counts. I've fucked up too many times, I've messed things up and I've disappointed him and I've only ever been a disappointment to him!" It was all coming out now, and there was no stopping it. "I disappointed him when I got my girlfriend pregnant before we were settled, and even though I tried to fix it, tried to make him proud by doing the right thing and marrying her, I only went and disappointed him again when my marriage fell apart and we divorced. I thought I was doing something right when I became a cop, just like him, just like he wanted, thought I'd make him proud by earning my Detective badge early, but nothing is ever good enough for him. He wants me to be like him – to be successful like my sisters, to get married to a good woman and settle down with a perfect little family and become the next chief of police." 

"An' you t'ink he'd be disappointed if he found out yo' wit' a man?" 

"I don't know what he'd think, or how he'd react." Pietro shook his head. "But it's not what he wants for me. I'd just be a disappointment, again. I'd be a disgrace, I'd bring shame on him. Commissioner Lensherr's son is sleeping with his Lieutenant. It's all the station would talk about, and Cortez would have a goddamn field day with it. I can't have what I want, Remy, because it's not what my father wants." 

"Fuck dat." Remy hissed, reaching over to grab Pietro by the shoulder. "Dis is yo' life, not his. If he don' like it den dat's his problem, but you shouldn' live yo' life by his standards, Pietro. How many potential relationships have you run from befo' dey can even begin jus' because daddy wouldn' approve, eh?" 

"It's not that simple!" 

"It is dat fuckin' simple, Pietro, an' it pisses Remy off dat you dare to t'ink ot'erwise. So what if yo' fat'er doesn' approve? He'll get over it. De only t'ing dat should matter to you is if yo' happy, an' you sure as hell ain' happy wit' all dis runnin' an' hidin'." He leant in closer, forcing Pietro to meet his eyes. "An' Remy's gon' say dis now, Pietro. If dat's how you gon' play dis, den he wants no part o' it. You don' fuck Remy an' den act like not'in' happened. You don' come to his house, his _private_ space, an' let him close jus' to t'row him aside 'cause you got scared." 

"I…" Pietro held his gaze, and saw the hurt behind the anger. "I'm sorry." And he meant it, he truly meant it. He'd been so caught up in thinking about what his father would do if he found out that he hadn't thought about what it would do to Remy's feelings. "God, I'm such an idiot." 

"Remy ain' gon' argue dat." 

"It was easy for you, Remy, because your father didn't care." Pietro shook his head again. "But nothing I do is ever right for mine. I just… I just want to do things right." 

"Was last night wrong, Pietro? Did it feel wrong to you?" Remy's hand slid up, cupping the back of his neck, and Pietro closed his eyes for a moment. 

"No. God, no." He breathed out, one hand coming up to rest on Remy's arm. When warm lips brushed his, he fought the urge to return the kiss. 

"Did dat feel wrong?" Remy murmured against his lips, and Pietro opened his eyes as he shook his head. "Den what's de problem?" Remy's fingers slid up into his hair, his other hand resting on Pietro's knee. "Jus' let yo'self be happy, Pietro. De world won' end if you do." 

"Oh… fuck it." Pietro murmured, both hands coming up to cup Remy's face as he kissed him, hard. Remy returned the kiss instantly, shifting to try and get closer to him as it deepened. Pietro's hands slid up Remy's chest, finding the buttons of his shirt and hurriedly working their way down, desperate to get at the skin beneath. Pietro suddenly broke away, glancing at the building across the street. "Wait, the suspect-," 

"Don' exist." Remy admitted with a grin. "Made him up." 

"You…" Pietro stared at him, stunned. "… This whole thing was a lie, wasn't it?" 

"Had to get you to talk somehow." Remy shrugged. "You kept runnin', so…"

"I don't believe you." Pietro groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. "And I'm pretty sure if I wasn't about ready to jump your bones I'd be pretty pissed off about being tricked like this." Remy grinned, sly, and sent a subtle glance towards the back seat of the jeep. "I…" Pietro stared at him again. "I'm not going to have sex in the back of this car." 

"Suit yo'self." Remy shrugged, and as Pietro watched, he climbed into the back and stretched out across the seats as best he could. "Remy'll start wit'out you, den." Pietro heard the clink of a belt buckle and the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and he groaned. 

"I hate you. So much." He murmured – and then hurriedly climbed into the back with him. Remy grinned up at him as Pietro straddled his legs, leaning forward to join their lips again. Remy's hands went to work, tugging Pietro's shirt free of his trousers before they found his belt – and when he slid a hand down the front of his trousers, he found Pietro hard and ready. "Please tell me you brought supplies with you." Pietro murmured as he trailed his lips down Remy's throat. 

"Not dis time." Remy's hand cupped him and pressed down, drawing a breathy moan from Pietro's lips. "Funnily enough, Remy didn' t'ink you'd be up fo' bangin' him in de back seat." 

"Shit." Pietro groaned, rocking his hips forward, pushing into Remy's hand. Remy bucked up against him as Pietro's teeth latched onto his neck, and one hand trailed down over his chest, moving lower until he found his prize. "This will have to do." 

"Works fo' Remy." He moaned softly, bucking up again as Pietro stroked him. They didn't have much room, but Remy shifted, bringing Pietro down on top of him and wrapping an arm around him to hold him in place. When Pietro rocked forward, their lengths brushed against each other, drawing a moan from both of them. "Mon dieu…" Remy breathed out, tipping his head up to bring their lips together. 

Pietro set the pace, rocking against him in a fast, steady rhythm, their moans mingling between desperate kisses as their hands stroked in jerky movements in an attempt to match the pace. Neither of them spared a thought for the risk of people passing by – they were too busy caught up in the moment, and in each other. 

"God, fuck…" Pietro gasped out, a familiar warmth spreading through him as he drew nearer to release. He rocked down harder, pressing his face to Remy's neck as he peaked. "Remy…" Remy clutched at him as he joined him, rocking back against him as the orgasm ripped through him. Pietro collapsed down against him, hot and breathless, not caring about the mess he'd probably made of his shirt – he'd worry about that later. 

"Well… dis certainly went better dan Remy imagined." Remy murmured, and Pietro laughed. Remy laughed with him, Pietro feeling it vibrate through his chest, and he lifted his head to kiss him, short and sweet. It occurred to him then that he – a goddamn _cop_ – had just essentially had sex in the back of a car in a public place. 

"Shit." He sat up sharply without thinking, and his head cracked against the roof of the jeep. "Fuck. Ow." Remy laughed, sitting up with a little more care, and he hooked an arm around Pietro's hips. 

"Careful dere, Speedy." He murmured, pulling him in for another kiss. "We're not on de job." Pietro scowled as he rubbed at the sore spot on the back of his head, but the scowl faded when his gaze fell upon Remy. His hair was more mussed than usual, a faint flush spread across his face and down across his chest, his shirt rumpled and sliding down his shoulders – and _god_ he was so goddamn attractive. 

"I can't go home like this." He told him, grabbing the first excuse he could out of the air, and hoping Remy would understand what he wanted. 

"O' course not." Remy smirked, sliding a hand up under Pietro's shirt to trail his fingers along his spine. "Yo' supposed to be on a surveillance job, non?" Remy leant in, nipping at Pietro's bottom lip. "How 'bout we go back to Remy's place, eh?" 

"Yeah." Pietro nodded, licking his lips. "Yeah that sounds good." 

\-- 

Pietro was greeted by cats when he stepped through Remy's front door, all three of them meowing loudly as they wove in and out of his legs. Remy shrugged out of his coat and held out a hand for Pietro's jacket, smiling as Lucifer pawed at Pietro's leg, demanding attention. He hung everything up as Pietro bent to scratch the cat under the chin. 

"Careful. You do dat an' he'll never leave you alone again." Remy warned him, bending to scoop up Figaro. "Come on t'rough. Remy's gotta feed dem ot'erwise dey'll jump on us righ' when we don' want dem to." Pietro followed him through to the kitchen, Lucifer trotting along at his heels. "Ever had cat claws dig into yo' ass? Not nice." Pietro laughed as Remy set the cat down and dug out the food. 

"I can't imagine it would be." He was surprised at how calm he was about being here again – and about rutting with Remy like goddamn teenagers in the back of a department issue vehicle. It probably had something to do with getting laid twice in a row. As Remy straightened up, the cats focused on the food, he tugged off his shirt and used it to wipe up the evidence of their intimacy. 

"Give Remy yo' shirt." He held out a hand. "He'll shove dem in de wash. Should be done by de mornin'." Pietro nodded, hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt so he could hand it over. He certainly couldn't wear it in the state it was in, and his father would notice if he went home wearing a different shirt. Remy chucked the shirts into the washing machine and set it on a quick wash, and then he turned to Pietro, and backed him up against the counter. "Much better." He murmured, leaning in for a kiss. Pietro fought back a grin as Remy pressed close against him, and when their lips met he leant into him, his arm snaking around Remy's hips. 

He let his fingers trail over Remy's skin, smiling into the kiss when Remy hummed in pleasure, and shivered a little under his touch. He pulled back from the kiss and turned his attention to the naked chest in front of him, and the beautiful designs inked across his skin. Now that he had an excuse, he could study them more closely. 

"They're beautiful." He murmured, fingers now tracing the rose that wound up through the sleeve tattoo. "How many do you have?" 

"Lost count." Remy shrugged, leaning in to place soft kisses along Pietro's jaw. He shivered again as Pietro's fingers slid up along his ribs, smiling when he felt them trace a tattoo. "Dere's mo' on Remy's back." 

"I saw a couple." Pietro nodded, his attention drawn to the heart he'd seen in the showers, and the writing he hadn't been able to read, but could now see clearly. Two names were inked inside the heart – Olivier and Rebecca. Part of him wanted to ask, but the part of him that knew better than to pry took over, and he let it slide. When Remy stepped back and turned, Pietro grinned. 

The flock of birds he'd seen stretched further across than he'd first thought, the final bird almost touching the top of the sleeve, and a flutter of falling feathers trailed down his back. Pietro almost laughed when he saw the Starfleet insignia tattooed in between. 

"So you're Command, then?" He asked, tracing the outline with his fingertip. Remy laughed as he turned again, his fingers hooking into Pietro's belt. 

"Would Remy be anyt'in' else?" He tugged Pietro closer, leaning down for a quick kiss. "Didn' t'ink you knew much 'bout Star Trek." 

"I looked up a few things." When Remy began to tug him out of the kitchen, Pietro followed without hesitation. "I know what Spirk is." 

"Is dat so?" Remy grinned, walking backwards down the hall towards his bedroom. "T'ink Jubilee figured us out den?" 

"No." Pietro shook his head, fingers tugging at Remy's belt as they stepped through into the bedroom. "She's got no idea I'm-," 

"Into dick?" Remy laughed, pushing Pietro's trousers down his hips. Pietro kicked off his boots and stepped out of his trousers, pressing up close to Remy again. 

"Into yours." Pietro shot back with a smirk. Remy laughed again, and caught him around the waist, twisting around to push him down onto the bed. Pietro propped himself up on his elbows, watching as Remy wriggled out of his jeans, and crawled up onto the bed after him. He tugged Remy down over him, their lips joining in a slow, deep kiss. 

"Is Remy gon' find you gone in de mornin'?" Remy murmured, pulling back so they were eye-to-eye. Pietro sighed, trailing a hand up Remy's spine. 

"No. Not this time." He shook his head a little, and smiled. "I'm still waiting for it to really sink in, but… no more running." He leant up, kissed him sweetly. "I won't do that to you again." 

"Good. 'Cause ot'erwise Remy would have to kick yo' ass." He grinned. "Which would be a shame, 'cause it's a rat'er nice one." Pietro laughed, reaching up to tug lightly on Remy's hair. 

"We can't tell anyone, though." He sighed again. "Not… not right away, I mean. I… I know you hate hiding, but…" 

"Non." Remy shook his head, leaning down to kiss him again. "Well, oui, Remy hates it, but he can make an exception dis time. You migh' have to make it wort' his while, t'ough." He winked, and Pietro rolled his eyes. 

"Fine, but I'm not blowing you at work. I draw the line there." He grinned when Remy laughed, and realised then what an idiot he'd been for pushing Remy away. He lifted both hands and cupped Remy's face, leaning up for another kiss. He had no idea if this was going to work, or if like everything else he'd fuck something up and ruin a really good thing, but he was sure as hell going to try.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it's back to work as usual.

When Pietro woke, it was only just starting to get light outside, and Remy was still fast asleep beside him. At some point after they'd fallen asleep, the cats had found their way into the bedroom – the white one was curled up at the bottom of the bed, whilst the grey one perched on the pillow beside Remy's head. The orange one, Pietro discovered, had plonked itself down on his chest. It blinked bright eyes at him as he shifted, and Pietro smiled, reaching up to lightly scratch it between the ears. A low, rumbling purr sounded, and those bright eyes closed to slits in pure bliss. 

He glanced over at Remy, sprawled on his back, the sheets pushed down to his hips and twisted around his legs. Ignoring the cat's yowl of complaint when he stopped the petting, he reached over and lightly traced Remy's jaw, feeling coarse stubble brush against his fingertip. Remy stirred a little, but didn't wake, and he shifted closer, one arm snaking over Pietro's hips. Pietro had never been one for cuddling – another reason he and Crystal had drifted apart – and usually at this point he'd try and put some distance between them, but the faintly possessive hold felt _nice_. 

A faint buzzing reached his ears, and he realised he'd left his phone on vibrate – and someone was trying to contact him. Worried that it might be Crystal with an emergency regarding Luna, Pietro eased out of Remy's grasp and nudged the cat until it moved, and he slipped out of bed. He hurried to where he'd kicked off his trousers, and fished into the pocket to retrieve his phone. He felt a small amount of relief when the caller ID read 'Wanda' and not 'Crystal', and he glanced back at the bed before he answered. 

"Hello?" He kept his voice soft, and low, not wanting to wake Remy. 

_"Hi. I didn't wake you, did I?"_ Wanda was outside, from what Pietro could tell from the background noise. _"I've just finished a long shift and thought I'd give you a call. I tried earlier but Dad said you were working an all-night thing."_  

"Yeah, uh… you didn't wake me." 

_"Oh good. Why are you whispering?"_  

"Uh." Pietro glanced back at Remy again, and sighed. "I can't say." 

_"You're full of secrets today, Pietro. If I didn't know you better, I'd assume you were on the job, but you'd never answer a personal call if you were in the middle of something. So I can only assume you've got company."_  

"Uh, well… you're not wrong." He winced a little as Remy stirred again. He didn't particularly want to walk around Remy's apartment completely naked, but he also didn't want to try and fiddle with his trousers whilst on the phone – one jingle of the belt buckle and Wanda would know _everything_. Instead, he crept around the room in the near-dark, and grabbed the nearest shirt he could find, pulling it on as he stepped out of the bedroom. "I can't tell you much, not yet, because it's very complicated. But uh… yeah, I'm not alone." 

_"Finally! We've been waiting for you to hook up with someone."_  

"Gee, thanks." He knew that 'we' meant her and Lorna. The two of them had tried to set him up once or twice in the past, but it had never gone well. He wandered through to the kitchen, balancing the phone against his shoulder as he buttoned the shirt. "Just… don't say anything yet, okay? Like I said, it's complicated. I need to get things straight first." 

_"Alright, I won't ask too many questions. But if things work out I want to be the first to meet them."_ Pietro hesitated, noticing how she hadn't said 'her'. As if reading his mind – which was possible, if you believed twins had that power – Wanda went on. _"I'm not blind, Pietro._ " 

"We'll talk about it later." He said quickly, finding a glass and filling it with water. 

_"Fine, fine. I assume you fixed things with your boss then?"_  

"Well…" He smiled, thinking of the man he'd left lying in bed. "You could say that." 

_"Good. See? I told you that you were worrying about nothing."_  

"Yeah, yeah, you're always right." He rolled his eyes, draining the glass of water and stepping up to the sink to rinse it out. "I promise I'll tell you everything as soon as I can, but right now…" 

_"It's a mess, I get it. Well, I need to be getting home anyway, so I'll let you go back to your company. Love you, Pietro."_  

"Yeah, love you too Wanda." He hung up, set the glass to dry on the side, and wandered back towards the bedroom. 

Remy stirred when Lucifer headbutted his cheek, and groaned as he opened his eyes. He gently nudged the cat away and flopped over onto his front, his arm stretching out to seek out Pietro – and when his hand found nothing but empty space, he frowned and lifted his head. Gone. For a moment he was frustrated with himself for actually believing he'd still be there – but then the bedroom door opened, and Pietro stepped into the room, a phone in his hand, and wearing one of his shirts. 

"Oh." Pietro paused, and then he circled around the bed and set his phone down on the bedside table. "Sorry, I… I didn't want to wake you up, so…" Remy pushed himself up just enough to reach out and fist a hand in the shirt Pietro wore, and he tugged him down onto the bed. All three cats jumped up with yowls of complaint, and hopped down off the bed. 

"T'ought you'd run." Remy murmured, voice thick with sleep as he pinned Pietro beneath him, nuzzling into his neck affectionately. Pietro smiled, closing his eyes as Remy kissed up his throat, one hand snaking underneath the shirt to stroke over his skin. 

"Told you." He said softly, tangling his legs with Remy's as their lips met briefly. "I'm not going to do that to you again." Remy grinned, his hand now smoothing down the shirt. 

"Yo' wearin' Remy's shirt." Pietro fought back a blush at the pleased tone to Remy's voice. 

"Just grabbed the first one I could find." He explained quickly, trying not to think about how of all the shirts he could have picked up, he had to have grabbed the _pink_ one. "It's still pretty early." He murmured, his hand stroking up the long length of Remy's body, tilting his head for another kiss. Remy pressed closer, and glanced at the time. 

"Mm. We don' have to be at work fo' anot'er two hours yet." He grinned, fingers working at removing the shirt from Pietro's body. "Can you t'ink o' any way we could pass de time?" Pietro sat up enough to get the shirt off, and then he hooked an arm around Remy's neck, and smirked up at him. 

"I've got an idea or two, yeah." 

\-- 

When Pietro stepped out of the shower an hour later, he could smell food, and his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten dinner the evening before. He pulled on his trousers and smoothed his hair back, and wandered through to the kitchen – where he found Remy, dressed only in jeans that should be illegally tight, hair still damp from the shower, as he cooked what smelled like omelettes. He turned as Pietro walked over, and grinned. 

"Figured you'd have worked up quite an appetite, non?" He winked, fingers hooking into one of his belt loops to tug him in for a kiss. "Yo' shirt's dry, by de way. Remy's hung it up on de back o' de door." Pietro turned, noticing the shirt. It looked a little creased, but he'd ignore that for now. He didn't even know if Remy _owned_ an iron. 

"Thanks." He reached for it, and pulled it on. The fabric was still warm, which told Pietro that Remy had put it through the drier only recently. He buttoned it but neglected to tuck it in, and he stepped up behind Remy and put his hands on the Cajun's hips. "Smells good." 

"Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells, eh?" He laughed, leaning back into Pietro as he finished up the cooking. "You want coffee or somet'in'?" 

"God yes." He groaned, stepping away from Remy. 

"Coffee machine has a pot ready." He gestured over his shoulder at the machine in question, and Pietro moved towards it. "Mugs are in de cupboard above." As Pietro poured two mugs of coffee, remembering Remy liked his coffee the same way he liked _his_ , Remy dished up the omelettes and set two plates on the table. As Pietro joined him with the coffee, he was surprised at how domestic this felt. 

It scared him a little. What scared him more was how okay with it he was – it had taken him months to get used to Crystal spending the night, sharing breakfast with her, and yet here he was with Remy after only one night, and it felt _natural_. He couldn't let himself get too attached, not now. Not when he wasn't sure how things were going to work out. A few days ago he would never have imagined he'd entertain the idea of starting a relationship with his Lieutenant – in fact it was the very thing he'd been trying to avoid. 

And yet… sat here in Remy's modest kitchen, eating omelettes and drinking coffee like they'd been doing it for months… it was nice. 

"Jubilee will notice." He blurted out, and Remy raised an eyebrow. 

"So will Logan." At Pietro's slightly panicked look, he laughed. "Don' worry. He don' want to know de details, but he knows somet'in's up." When Pietro continued to stare, Remy rolled his eyes. "Who do you t'ink told Remy to make up a job to get you to talk?" 

"Logan knows?" His voice came out as more of a squeak, but he was too distracted to be embarrassed by it. 

"Not exactly." Remy shrugged. "It's up to you if ya wanna tell him anyt'in'. He told Remy he won' lie to yo' fat'er if he asks, t'ough." 

"God." Pietro groaned. "I won't tell him details, but… you're right. He'll notice." 

"From Remy's perspective, he didn' seem to mind, so you don' have to worry 'bout dat." Remy shrugged again. "An' if you don' want people to know, den Remy can make it so not'in' seems different." 

"No, Logan wouldn't mind." Pietro shook his head a little. "He's, ah… pretty open." Remy raised both eyebrows at that. 

"You tellin' Remy dat Logan's…?" 

"Sort of." Pietro shrugged one shoulder. "He let it slip once that he didn't much care either way. I don't think my father knows, and I haven't told anyone else." He paused. "So you didn't hear it from me." 

"Well, damn." Remy grinned. "Dat's hot." Pietro scowled. 

"Don't." He warned. "Don't even _think_ about it." Remy laughed, getting up to lean over the table and kiss Pietro's cheek. 

"Remy t'inks he's got his hands full enough wit' you." He murmured, taking his now empty plate to the sink. "No need to get jealous." 

"I wasn't." Pietro muttered, scowling at his coffee as he tried to ignore the fact that he had been, just a little. Remy turned, about to respond, when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket with a sigh, and checked the caller ID. 

"Damn." He lifted the phone, answered the call. "Lieutenant LeBeau." Pietro looked up, knowing that tone, and waited as Remy listened. "Oui. Be dere in ten. Non, Remy'll take care o' dat." He cut the call, and turned to Pietro. "Finish up. We got a case." 

\-- 

By the time they got to the scene, Jean Grey was already finishing up her initial checks, and the CSI team was ready to start work. Remy held them off for another couple of minutes, and stepped into the bedroom of a young man – who lay on his back in the middle of the bed, wrists tied behind him. 

"Your victim is Kyle Young, twenty-seven years old." Jean told them as they approached. "I'll confirm at the morgue but time of death is around two-fifty this morning. Cause of death is manual strangulation." 

"T'anks, cherie." Remy murmured, walking around the scene slowly, taking everything in. He switched on his recorder, stepped back to survey the room as a whole. "Don' look like a break-in, so we can assume Kyle let his killer in – so he probably knew him, or had no reason to suspect danger. Dere's also no signs o' a struggle, so it's possible he was knocked out or drugged befo' he was tied up." He glanced over at Jean to confirm. 

"I found no injuries to suggest he was hit over the head, but I'll do a proper inspection once I have him back at the morgue. I'll run a standard tox screen – if he was drugged, it'll show up." Remy nodded, and went back to studying the scene. 

"Stripped naked, so dis is likely to be sexual in nature. No ot'er injuries visible, save fo' t'ose linked to de strangulation." He nodded to Jean. "Get de photos, an' we'll turn him." Whilst the CSIs snapped their photos, Pietro stepped forward. 

"I ran him through our database, got his information." He told him. "Works in a bookstore, no spouse or children on record. Lived here for six months, previous address has him listed as living with Harold Berkley, twenty-nine, who now resides there alone." 

"Recently moved out, eh?" Remy murmured. "Find out de connection between Young and Berkley – friend, colleague, boyfriend. Alrigh', let's move him." Together with Jean, he rolled Kyle over – and winced. "Damn. Was afraid o' dat." 

"Lacerations and blood indicate forced penetration." Jean commented. "Blood around the wrists tells me he struggled against the restraints." 

"He was probably awake fo' it." Remy sighed. "Check wit' de neighbours, see if anyone heard anyt'in' last night." Pietro nodded, and stepped out of the room to speak to the uniforms who were first on scene. "Raped an' strangled in his own apartment." 

"He knew his killer." Jean nodded. "He's not a big guy, but he's got some muscle, and he's tall. Even if he was drugged, the killer would have to get in here to drug him – and it would take a lot to bring him down." 

"Oui, Remy agrees. He let his killer in, trusted dem." He shook his head, and swore under his breath. "When de CSIs clear it, you take care o' him. Remy'll go talk to de poor bastard who found him." He left Jean and the CSIs to do their thing, and strode through the apartment to the living room, where Pietro sat with a neighbour. He stood when he saw Remy approach, and stepped to one side. "What have you got?" 

"Dani Powell, lives across the hall. She and Young go for a run every morning – they're trying to fit in more exercise as part of a new healthy lifestyle. She works in the bakery across the street from the bookstore Young works at, pointed him in the direction of this apartment when she heard he was looking for a new place." Pietro scanned his notes as he spoke. "She also gave me the connection with Berkley – ex-boyfriend. According to Dani they parted as friends, just realised they wanted different things, but I'll chase that up. When Kyle didn't answer the door, she let herself in with the key he'd given her. Apparently it's not uncommon for him to sleep in, and she knew he'd gone out the night before so she assumed he was sleeping off a hangover. She went through to the bedroom, and… well." He gestured, and Remy nodded. 

"She know where he went last night?" 

"Yes." Pietro nodded. "You know it, actually." When Remy raised an eyebrow, Pietro smirked a little. "X-Calibur. I believe you were flirting with the bartender." 

"Ah, oui." Remy smiled, remembering the bar from the first case he'd worked with Pietro. "Looks like we'll be dropping by fo' a chat later." He glanced back at the neighbour. "She give you anyt'in' else?" 

"Not much. I pressed about where he went last night, what plans he had, but she didn't know anything beyond him heading down to the bar. She did say he seemed like he was hoping to get lucky, though." 

"Considerin' he let his killer in, maybe he t'ought he did. Alrigh', we'll let her go fo' now. We'll let de CSI team gat'er what dey need, an' we'll talk to de family. Got an address?" Pietro typed away on his handheld, and then nodded. 

"Family lives out in Queens." He told him. "I've got the uniforms knocking on doors, and I told them to check building security to see if we can spot them coming in, but a building like this? The only camera they've got is on the door, and in the elevator." 

"Maybe we'll get lucky, eh?" He sighed. "Alrigh', let's go tell de family, an' den we'll swing by de morgue on de way back to de station." 

\-- 

"You were on the mark, LT." Jean told them as she led them over to the table where Kyle Young lay, covered to the waist. "I put the tox screen on high priority, and I just got the results. He was drugged." She handed over the sheet of paper, and Remy scanned it. 

"Ah, date-rape drug." He murmured. "Ingested wit' alcohol?" 

"Seems that way." She nodded. "He'd consumed a lot of alcohol prior to death – which I've put as two-forty-eight this morning to be exact." She picked up Kyle's file, flipped it open. "No other injuries besides the strangulation and forced penetration, and the wounds on the wrists. I'll let the lab report confirm, but the rope used is pretty standard, can probably pick it up at any hardware store." 

"Don' suppose we got any DNA?" Remy asked, already knowing the answer. 

"Not that I've found." She shook her head. "Not on the body, at least. No hairs or fibres – and no semen, although I found traces of spermicide." 

"So a condom was used." Pietro spoke up. "We're looking for a man." 

"Almost certainly." Jean agreed. "Though it is possible a foreign object was used." 

"We won' rule it out, but considerin' de victim's sexual preference an' his venue o' choice, t'ings definitely point to a man." He studied Kyle again for a moment, remembering how the mother had cried when he'd told her that her son was dead. "We'll look hard at de ex-boyfriend. Friendly or not, people don' like it when someone breaks up wit' dem." He gave Jean a bright smile, and put a hand on Pietro's shoulder. "T'anks Jean. C'mon Pietro, let's get back to de station an' contact de ex-boyfriend."

"Shall I bring him down to the station, or are we going to go to him?" Pietro asked as they drove towards the station. 

"Bring him in." Remy nodded. "We'll direct him to de break room, where it's mo' info'mal. We're not interrogatin' him jus' yet. Jus' tell him we need to ask him some questions 'bout Kyle, an' dat it's impo'tant he gets here as soon as possible." 

"You don't think he did it." Pietro murmured, glancing over at him. Remy shrugged. 

"At dis point, Pietro, Remy's keepin' his head clear." He pulled to a stop at some lights, fingers tapping impatiently on the wheel. "Wit' crimes like dis, we always look at de nearest an' dearest firs', especially wit' fairly recent break-ups or disputes. De neighbour says dey parted as friends, an' de family gave us no recent to suspect dat t'ings didn' play out dat way, eit'er. Remy won' rule him out, not until we poke at him, but…" 

"It didn't seem personal enough." Pietro finished for him, and Remy flashed him a smile. 

"Got it in one, Detective. You kill yo' ex fo' whatever reason, den dere will be evidence o' de personal connection. Manual strangulation is mo' personal, oui, but… dere was no remorse. De killer didn' cover him up, close his eyes – none o' de usual personal touches were dere. Not every crime plays be de rules, o' course, but unless Berkley is one suspicious bastard, Remy's t'inkin' dis was a stranger." He gunned the engine as soon as the lights changed, though Pietro barely noticed. God, was he getting used to the crazy driving already? 

"Someone he met at the bar?" Pietro frowned. "But what's the motive?" When Remy sent him a look, Pietro shrugged. "I agree with you – it doesn't feel personal enough – but it's a question we have to ask. What was the motive? Why would a stranger, someone Kyle appeared to have invited into his apartment, kill him?" 

"Any number o' reasons, Pietro. Could be sex games gone wrong, like wit' de King case, t'ough dat doesn' account fo' de rape. It's lackin' de personal side, so could be Young was jus' unlucky, an' hooked up wit' a psycho." He pulled into the station, and slid the car into his parking space. "Run like crimes over de past few mont's to start wit', find anyt'in' unsolved. Could be dis guy's done dis befo'." Pietro nodded, tucking his handheld away as they ascended to Homicide. 

"I'll contact Berkley, then do the run. Anything else?" 

"Non, not fo' now. Remy's gotta go give his report to de Captain." He paused, glanced at the time. "What time does X-Calibur open again?" 

"They have an early start." Pietro told him, checking the details. "Place opens at four." 

"Den we'll head down dere around den." Remy nodded. "Alrigh', get on dat search." Unable to resist, Remy let his hand brush down Pietro's back, lingering a moment too long before he pulled away and strode towards Logan's office. Pietro barely restrained the smile as he dropped down behind his desk, and reached for the phone to contact Harold Berkley. When he replaced the receiver again, Jubilee was perched on his desk. 

"LT's lookin' better today." She stated, her legs swinging a little as she chewed gum. "He could have taken on the Captain with that grumpy face he had on yesterday." 

"No one can take on Logan in the grumpy face department, Jubes." Pietro grinned, and she laughed. 

"True, true. But it was close." She shrugged one shoulder. "So, you know what was up?" 

"Ah…" He couldn't tell her, not outright. She wouldn't react badly, of course – if anything it'd be the exact opposite – but he wanted to speak to Logan before he let anything slip to the only work friend he had. "Not sure. But it's obviously cleared up. Maybe he was just having a bad day?" 

"Maybe. He seemed real pissed though. No one dared to even go in there." She snapped her gum, then blew a bubble. Pietro resisted the urge to pop it in her face. "He's super hot when he's angry." 

"You're unbelievable." Pietro murmured, though inside he was agreeing with her. If he hadn't felt so sick about what he'd done, he might have pounced him the previous morning. Before he got caught up in thoughts that would only lead to trouble, he set up the search for like crimes and input the data to narrow down the results. "I looked up what Spirk is, by the way." 

"Yeah?" Jubilee laughed. 

"Yup." He raised an eyebrow at her, but she merely grinned innocently. "Am I gonna have to get used to Star Trek references now that you're buddying up to the Lieutenant?" 

"Maybe you should just watch the film." She prodded at his shoulder. "Then it wouldn't go right over your head. Hey – I bet LT can speak some Klingon." 

"It wouldn't surprise me." Pietro murmured under his breath. "And I'm not a total idiot. I know some stuff about Star Trek." Actually, he knew next to nothing, but he'd do some more research just so he didn't get lost with the references. 

"Please." Jubilee rolled her eyes. "You know nothing, Jon Snow." She patted his head, and then hopped down off his desk. Pietro frowned. 

"Who the hell is Jon Snow?" He asked her, and she laughed as she walked away. 

"Google, Pietro. It's your best friend." She dropped into her own chair, and went back to her work. Pietro rolled his eyes, and checked the progress of the scan. So far, it had generated nothing except a couple of cases that were closed, but he checked them anyway, just to make sure. 

When Remy emerged from Logan's office, the Captain followed him out – and immediately locked eyes with Pietro. Remy sent Pietro a wink before he ducked into his own office, and Pietro felt himself tense when Logan merely raised an eyebrow at him. Oh yeah – Logan knew. Leaving the search running, he pushed up, and walked over. 

"I told LeBeau, and I'm telling you. I don't want to know." Logan said immediately, keeping his voice low. "Don't tell me a damn thing, and then I won't have anything to tell your father if he ever sees the need to ask. I'm leaving that to you." He paused, and put a hand on Pietro's shoulder. "But I will say this – I hope you know what you're doing." 

"Honestly? I've got no idea what I'm doing." Pietro admitted. "But I'm doing it anyway." 

"Just be careful, kid." Pietro studied Logan for a moment, and then sighed. 

"You don't like him, do you?" To his surprise, Logan laughed. 

"Actually, I do." He told Pietro with a shrug. "Don't get me wrong, he's a pain in the ass and I fantasise about smacking that smug little grin right off his face, and that damn accent grates on my nerves, but… he's alright." Pietro laughed at that. "You could do worse. Much worse." Pietro smiled to himself, and then pulled Logan into a brief hug. 

"Thanks, Logan." Logan returned the hug, but only for a moment, and then they stepped apart. 

"Don't mention it." He muttered. "And I mean that. Don't. I don't want to know." He held up his hands and stepped away even further, edging towards his office door. Pietro rolled his eyes as he watched him go, and then he walked over to step into Remy's office. 

"I've got the scan running, but so far nothing's come up. Berkley's on his way in – he knows Young is dead. Apparently he got a call from Kyle's mother shortly after we left them, and she told him everything." He told the Lieutenant, who sighed. 

"Well, least dat saves us de job o' tellin' him." Remy shrugged. "T'ough if he is de guilty one, dat's given him some time to t'ink o' an alibi." 

"But you're still not sure if he's the one we're looking for." 

"Not at dis moment, non, but we'll see how he handles de questions." Remy crossed the room to slip a hand into his coat pocket, and he pulled out the sunglasses. "Better get t'ings ready." Pietro stepped closer, and put a hand on Remy's wrist. 

"Don't." He said softly, glancing at the sunglasses. "Don't hide them." A flutter of emotions crossed Remy's face, and he lowered his gaze to the shades he was so used to hiding behind. "You don't need to, Remy." Remy sighed, hesitating for a moment longer – and then he slipped them back into his pocket. 

"What's yo' rule 'bout kissing at work?" He murmured, catching Pietro's hand before he could let it drop to his side. Pietro sent a hurried glance over his shoulder at the open doorway. 

"I-," he broke off, quickly scanning the people outside. No one was looking, so if it was quick… but no. It was too public, too open. Anyone could see. "I can't. Not here." 

"Damn." Remy smiled, slow and easy. "Cause Remy got a real urge to kiss you righ' now." Pietro hooked his fingers around Remy's, and squeezed very slightly. 

"Save it for later." He told him, his lips quirking into a small smile. Remy glanced down at their hands, and then he gently lifted Pietro's and folded in two of his fingers, leaving the first and middle fingers extended. Ignoring Pietro's curious look, he copied the gesture with his own hand – and touched their extended fingers together. 

"Vulcan kiss." He explained when Pietro raised an eyebrow, and then he stepped back and headed for the door. "Let's get de break room emptied befo' Berkley turns up. Bring a recorder, Pietro." As he walked away, Pietro grinned like an idiot, and then wiped it from his face before he turned to follow, rolling his eyes. 

"Goddamn nerd."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case develops, and Pietro discovers something new about the death that hangs over Remy's head.

Harold Berkley looked nervous. Of course, a lot of people would look nervous when they're asking to come into the police stations to answer some questions. Pietro wondered how nervous he'd look if they'd set up the interrogation room instead of the break room. Remy led the way inside, making sure to give him a friendly smile. 

"Mr Berkley. We appreciate you takin' de time to come in." Harold stood, offered him a hand, and Remy shook it before he gestured for him to sit again. The two cops took a seat opposite him, and Remy made a deliberate show of putting a recorder on the table between them. "You don' mind if we record dis, do you? It's jus' to keep t'ings on record." 

"No, I… I don't mind." He watched as Remy switched the recorder on. "Is Kyle really dead?" 

"Afraid so, Mr Berkley." Remy glanced up at him. "We're gon' read you yo' rights, jus' routine." He nodded to Pietro, who read off the Miranda. "Do you understand yo' rights an' obligations?"

"Yes." Harold nodded, frowning a little. He looked a little more nervous than before, something Pietro made a note of. "Am I a suspect here? I haven't seen Kyle in months." 

"Jus' routine, Mr Berkley." Remy assured him. "You used to live wit' Kyle Young, is dat righ'?" 

"Yeah." He nodded again. "Yeah we lived together." 

"Yo' relationship?" 

"He's my – he _was_ my boyfriend." Harold corrected. Pietro made a note of that – it had been six months, and he was still confusing the tense. That told him that perhaps Harold hadn't wanted things to end. "He moved out when we broke up, got his own place." 

"Why did de two o' you break up?" Remy kept things light, and casual. Friendly. He couldn't be sure Harold wasn't involved, not yet, but he didn't want to put him on edge. 

"We, ah… wanted different things." He tried to shrug it off, but there was tension there. "The last couple of months we'd lost the spark, so we decided to go our separate ways." 

"You decided toget'er? Or did Kyle suggest it?" 

"We decided together." Harold frowned again. "Hey, look, it was a good break-up. We didn't fight or anything. Don't get me wrong, I was disappointed and I was sad to see him go. We had a good thing, but whatever had connected us had just… fizzled out. I was actually hoping we'd probably pick it up again if possible." He sighed now, dragged a hand through his hair. "Guess that's not gonna happen now." Remy studied him, then changed angle. 

"You said you haven't seen Kyle in mont's." 

"I let him store some stuff at our place whilst he found his own, and he was collecting it bit by bit for a while." Harold shrugged. "Cleared the last of it out a couple of months ago. I dropped off a few things I found when I was rearranging my own stuff… that was about two months ago. Haven't seen him since." 

"Did you have any ot'er contact wit' him? Did you call him, text, email?" 

"No. Oh, wait… no, he did call me about a month ago. My sister got engaged, so he wanted to pass on a message to her, say congratulations and all that." He paused, sighed again. "We were still friends. I know you have to look at partners or ex-partners when someone dies, so I know you're looking at me for this, but I'd never hurt him." 

"Dey all say dat, Mr Berkley." Remy murmured, watching his face for any reaction. "Look at it dis way – you told us you hoped you migh' get back toge'ter. Knowin' dat, we migh' assume you spoke to him 'bout it, an' he declined, an' you got angry. Maybe angry enough to kill him." As Harold went to object, Remy held up a hand. "So we're gon' look real hard at you. If you've lied to us, even 'bout somet'in' you migh' t'ink don' matter, we'll find out. So you need to be real honest wit' us here." 

"I haven't lied." Harold shook his head. "I haven't seen him in months, haven't spoken to him since that call. I don't even know if he's met someone else or not. I didn't kill him." 

"Where were you between de hours o' one an' four dis mornin', Mr Berkley?" 

"Uh… I was at home. Asleep." He paused. "Alone." Pietro made a note, and Harold shifted nervously. "Look-," 

"T'ank you, Mr Berkley. Dat will be all fo' now." Remy stood, and Pietro followed suit. "We may need to contact you again, so don' leave town." They left Harold in the break room, and Pietro waited until they were back in the Homicide bullpen before he spoke. 

"No alibi." He commented. "He didn't ask how Kyle was killed, either." 

"We'll put him on de back burner fo' now, check out de bar an' any ot'er angles we can find. He's not clear, but Remy's instincts are tellin' him Harold's not our guy." He shook his head. "Ain' dat he's not capable o' it – de guy's big enough to take down Kyle, an' he's someone Kyle would let into his apartment, but…" 

"You can't see him abusing him that way." Pietro nodded. "I agree. But we still have to look." 

"Oui. We always have to look." Pietro stopped at his desk, and noticed the scan had finished. He dropped into his chair, studied the results. 

"Damn." He murmured. "No like crimes that are cold or ongoing. Got a handful that match the method, but all were closed, with the killers still doing time." 

"Well, we can cross dat off at least." Remy sighed. "So we got an ex-boyfriend who don' spark any suspicion, an' a bar our victim visited befo' he was killed. Not much to go on yet." 

"I'll chase up the lab for results on the rope, see if they picked up anything else at the scene." Pietro reached for the phone, though he imagined he'd have to go down to the lab himself if he wanted anything done. One lab for the whole station meant they were always working a dozen cases per tech. 

"Remy should brief de Commander on de case." He brushed a hand across Pietro's neck, leant in close. "We should go to dinner again soon, eh?" Pietro smiled, though he tried not to let it show too much. 

"We'll see." Remy's fingers brushed up into his hair very slightly, and then he pulled back. 

"Get to work, an' we'll drop by de bar for opening time." Pietro turned, watching him go, and smiled to himself again.

And then caught Jubilee's eye. 

"Alright, what's up with you?" She wheeled her chair over, closed him in. "There was all this tension, and now…" She narrowed her eyes. "You had sex last night, didn't you?" 

"What?!" Don't blush, Pietro. Don't let anything show. 

"It's the only explanation. You're all… relaxed. You're smiling more." She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, you definitely had sex last night. Or maybe this morning." 

"Both, actually." He murmured without thinking. 

"Knew it!" Jubilee laughed, punching the air. "Score for Detective Maximoff!" Pietro winced. Damnit, he should watch his tongue more closely. "So who's the lucky lady? Do I know her?" 

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell." He muttered, turning away from her so he could dial down for the lab. If he went back to work, maybe she'd let it go and he wouldn't have to make up lies about a mystery woman who didn't exist. Or maybe he should just tell her it had been Remy in bed with him that morning. 

"I'll find out, y'know. I'm a detective." She winked, but she seemed to understand to leave it there – for now. "So what's the case?" 

"Oh, uh… guy was attacked in his apartment. Drugged, raped, strangled." He told her, dialling the lab's number. 

"Ouch." She winced. "Got any leads?" 

"We looked at the ex-boyfriend, but neither of us think he's our guy. Neighbour – and friend – told us our vic went out to a gay bar last night, so we're thinking he got picked up by the wrong guy, invited him back and… well, that was that." 

"You need any extra hands on this, just say the word." Jubilee told him as she wheeled her chair back to her desk. "I'm about done with the case I was working, so I'll be free if you need me." 

"Thanks, Jubes." He gave her a smile, and then focused on the call as someone down in the lab picked up on the other end. 

\-- 

When they pulled up outside X-Calibur, Pietro reached over to grab Remy's arm before he could get out of the car. Remy turned, lifted an eyebrow at him. 

"Try not to flirt with the staff again." He told him. "We're supposed to be professionals, remember?" Remy grinned. 

"Is dat de cop speakin', or de jealous boyfriend?" The term surprised Pietro, enough for him to let go of Remy's arm. By the time he got his head around it, Remy had already got out of the car. He hurried after him, and caught him by the elbow before he could step inside the bar. 

"Boyfriend?" 

"Well… y'are, right?" Remy raised an eyebrow at him again. "Cause we did go to dinner, an' den we slept toget'er… an' den again last nigh'. An' again dis mornin', too, but dat's not de point." He paused, frowned. "An' considerin' what we've been talkin' 'bout wit' regards to who knows 'bout us…" 

"That's…" He trailed off, realising what Remy was saying made sense. "I just…" _Boyfriend_. The word made it official. 

"You jus' didn' t'ink o' it dat way." Remy pulled his arm free. "Remy t'ought you knew what you signed up fo', Pietro." He turned, and stepped into the bar. Pietro sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. 

"Well done, Pietro." He murmured, before following him inside. Remy was already at the bar, and a familiar face wandered over to flash him a smile. Pietro nearly groaned. 

"This is a nice surprise." Clayton leant on the bar, not even glancing at the badge Remy had flashed. "Lieutenant Handsome." Pietro rolled his eyes, and stepped up beside Remy. "I'm guessing you two aren't here on a social call."

"Not dis time, Clayton. Maybe anot'er time." He dropped in a wink that had Pietro tensing. Hadn't he said no flirting? "Were you workin' last nigh'?" 

"I work most nights, handsome." He nodded. "Someone else dead?" Pietro brought up Kyle's ID photo on his handheld, and showed it to Clayton. 

"You know dis man, or see him around here last nigh'?" 

"Ah, shit, yeah." Clayton sighed. "Damn. That's Kyle." He shook his head a little. "He's a regular here. I like to connect with the regulars, so when he started showing up more and more over the past few months, I got talking to him. He was here last night. Guy's been looking for someone new in his life since he broke up with his boyfriend, so I helped him out some here and there, pointed him towards some other single regulars I thought he might like." He shrugged one shoulder. "Nothing really stuck, but he appreciated the help." 

"I'm sure he did." Pietro spoke before Remy could, not trusting him to keep things professional. "You saw him last night. Did you see anything out of place?" 

"I can't see everything, not on a busy night." He shook his head. "I spoke with Kyle some when he was at the bar, asked if he'd had any luck on the dating scene. Said he was hoping to get lucky that night, and since he was ordering two drinks – and I know Kyle doesn't drink whiskey – I figured he was hooking up with someone." He paused, thought for a moment. "Actually, I did see him with someone." 

"Really? Can you describe dem?" Remy nodded to Pietro, who fished his notebook out. "Anyt'in' you can give us?" 

"Uh…" Clayton chewed on his bottom lip, and then nodded. "He was a brunette, but lighter brown, like… a few shades off blond, really. Fair skin. He was a bit taller than Kyle, had a bit more muscle on him, but Kyle's a skinny little bastard so…" He winced. "Sorry, that's probably disrespectful. Anyway, uh… he wasn't a regular, I can tell you that. Haven't seen him around before, but we get a lot of people in here." 

"Do you have security cameras in here?" Pietro asked, glancing around to try and spot them. 

"We've got a couple. There's one over every door, and we have a few around the bar." Clayton shrugged. "A lot of people who come in here? They don't want to be caught on camera." 

"We're going to need copies of your tapes from last night." Pietro told him, and Clayton nodded. 

"Sure, sure." He signalled to a young woman wiping down tables. "Di, head into the back, get copies of the security tapes from last night." He turned back to them. "You want the whole night or…?" 

"From the moment you opened." Clayton nodded, relayed the information to Di, who disappeared through a door marked 'staff only'. 

"So you think the guy he hooked up with killed him?" Clayton leant on the bar again, speaking only to Remy. 

"Lookin' dat way." Remy nodded. "Eit'er dat or de ex-boyfriend got tired o' bein' de ex. Kyle ever mention any problems wit' him?" 

"Nah, not that he told me, anyway." Clayton shrugged again. "People tell bartenders pretty much anything. Kinda comes with the job. But if his ex was troubling him, Kyle didn't say. Seemed pretty happy, actually." Di appeared with the tapes, and Pietro took them from her with a muttered 'thanks'. "Hope you catch the guy. Kyle was sweet. Flirted with him a little, but we didn't have a spark." He paused, grinned at them. "And it's all about the spark. You two understand me, yeah?" Pietro frowned, but Remy was grinning. 

"Oh yeah, you gotta have de spark." Remy sent a sly smile in Pietro's direction, and the detective rolled his eyes. 

"If we're finished here, Lieutenant, we have security tapes to go through." Clayton laughed a little. 

"Does he call you Lieutenant in bed, too?" Pietro felt a flush creep up the back of his neck, especially when Remy raised an eyebrow suggestively. 

"Non, but Remy's t'inkin' he should, eh?" Pietro rolled his eyes, and started for the door, carrying the tapes. Remy grinned at Clayton, and straightened up. "Better follow after him. T'anks fo' yo' help, Clayton." 

"Anytime, handsome." Remy strode after Pietro, and flashed him an innocent grin when he found him scowling by the car. 

"It'd be kinda hot, non?" He unlocked the car, laughing as Pietro only glared at him before getting in the car. Remy followed suit, still grinning. "Maybe we can put de handcuffs to use, too." 

"We are not having this conversation." 

"You don' have to. Remy don' need you to respond." He started the engine, and turned in the direction of the station. "Alt'ough, seein' as yo' Remy's _boyfriend_ now, you'd better get used to dis." He glanced over, raised an eyebrow. "Unless dat's too much fo' you." 

"Could you at least pretend to be professional when interviewing potential witnesses and people of interest?" He sighed. "Or is that too much for _you_?" 

"It never hurts to be friendly wit' people, Pietro. We got a connection wit' a bartender who notices t'ings, notices people. We go in dere, he's happy to talk to us, tell us anyt'in' he knows. What's wrong wit' dat?" He smirked. "Yo' jus' jealous 'cause Remy was flirtin'."

"I'm not jealous. You'd flirt with a table if it would return the attention." Pietro shot back. 

"Yo' jealous." Remy grinned. "Is dat why you got all snippy wit' Remy de firs' time we talked to him? Were you jealous back den, too?" 

"I'm _not_ jealous." He pulled out his notebook, pretended to go over his notes. "Can we focus on the work? We were just given a potential suspect. We need to focus on finding out who he is." 

"Alrigh', alrigh'." Remy shook his head with a slight laugh. "How can you be wound so tigh' after all dat sex, eh? You need to lighten up." 

"Well maybe if my partner wasn't a frustrating pain in the ass-," he broke off, and groaned when he realised what he'd said. And, yep, Remy was giving him that infuriating shit-eating grin. "Shut up. Don't even think about making the joke." 

"What joke? Remy don' know what yo' talkin' 'bout." He shrugged, playing innocent. "You got a filt'y mind, Pietro. Remy is shocked an' disappointed in you." 

"Shut up." Pietro groaned. "God, you're an ass." Remy reached over with one hand, and rested it on Pietro's thigh. 

"Careful dere, Pietro. Insultin' yo' superior reflects badly on you, eh?" Pietro swatted his hand away, and tucked his notebook back in his pocket as they pulled into the station.

"Try to keep your hands to yourself, sir." He murmured as Remy parked the car. As he got out, he glanced around, checked that they were alone. As Remy began to start towards the elevator, Pietro grabbed him by the sleeve and tugged him into one of the few camera blind spots, and tugged him down for a kiss. He pulled back before Remy could get any ideas about taking it further, and smiled a little. "And next time, when your jealous boyfriend tells you not to flirt – don't flirt." He strode away, smirking to himself. 

Remy watched him for a moment, and then he grinned.

\-- 

Back in the bullpen, Pietro split half the tapes from the door cameras with Jubilee, and they sat together and went through the footage bit by bit, looking for any sign of Kyle. Once they had him leaving X-Calibur, they had a shot of finding out who he left with. 

"Got him coming in at around ten." Jubilee called to him, and Pietro wheeled his chair over to look. 

"Yup, that's our guy." He noted down his appearance – white button-up, jeans, his blond hair loosely tied back in a short, scruffy ponytail. "Let's see what time he left." He pushed back to his own desk, scanned through the footage. "We know he was back at his apartment by two-thirty at the latest, and the bar is about a ten minute cab ride from his apartment…" He increased the speed of the footage, and then slowed it down when it got to one-thirty in the morning. 

He slammed his finger down on the key to freeze the frame when he watched Kyle step out onto the street with his arm around the waist of a tall brunette. 

"Got him." Jubilee wheeled over, and watched as Pietro went back through the footage at a slower pace, hoping to get a shot of the brunette's face. "Come on… just turn your head…" 

"He might know the camera's there." Jubilee pointed out. "If he planned this, if he planned to pick someone up and kill them, he might have taken care not to show his face on camera."

"Damnit, yeah." Pietro sighed in frustration as Kyle and the brunette climbed into a cab, and disappeared off down the street. "But we know he left with a brunette, we've got a rough description from the bartender, and from the timeframe they were heading to his apartment. We've got our killer." 

"Pietro…" Jubilee opened up the file, and tapped on the ID photo of Harold Berkley. "He's a brunette. He's taller than Kyle, he fits the build." 

"I know." He sat back in his chair, studied the image on the computer screen, and then the photograph of Berkley. "I have to look at the evidence here. Berkley has no alibi for the time of the murder, he's someone Kyle would trust enough to let him into the apartment, and I can't see why he wouldn't leave with him if they ran into each other at the bar." 

"He's got opportunity, and arguably he's got motive." Jubilee agreed. "You're gonna have to call him into Interview." 

"It doesn't feel right, Jubes. It just doesn't feel right." He shook his head. "If we could just get his face on camera…" He glanced towards Remy's office. "Maybe the footage from the bar cameras might give us something." He printed out the frames, and carried them to the office. "We're gonna have to call Berkley back in for a formal interview." 

"You got him on camera?" Remy lifted an eyebrow, turning away from his screen. 

"No, but we have Kyle leaving with a brunette that could be him." He handed over the printouts. "Didn't get his face on camera, so unless you have something that proves it isn't him, he's become our top suspect." 

"Nah, Remy got not'in'." He shook his head, glancing at the printouts. "It don' feel righ', but we have to follow de evidence. Have a couple o' uniforms bring Berkley in, an' go back t'rough de footage, see if we can spot dis guy comin' in." 

"If he came in through the front, chances are we won't get his face. He probably knows the camera's there. Could be chance that the camera didn't pick up his face on the way out, but I don't think so." 

"Non, he's bein' careful to hide his face. Alrigh', let's get Berkley in here, an' see what he has to say 'bout dis." He paused. "Jubilee's workin' de footage wit' you, oui?" Pietro nodded. "Keep her on it. Even if we get a surprise confession from Berkley, it can' hurt to keep lookin'."

"Got it." He gave Remy a nod, and then moved to follow his instructions. Remy sat back, rubbed a hand over his face. This wasn't going to be an open-and-shut case, not this time. He'd been on the job long enough to know when a case wasn't that simple, and his instincts had never let him down before. 

He called up the photo ID of Kyle Young, and studied his face. Blond hair, grey eyes – handsome. Before he could stop himself, he called up the case, and the ID, of another young man with blond hair and grey eyes, and he put the two side-by-side. Kyle's jaw was stronger, harder, and the nose was the wrong shape, but it wasn't difficult to imagine that he could have been Henri LeBeau eleven years down the line. Henri's photo still held the softness of youth – only just maturing, his face still young and innocent. Stuck forever at sixteen. 

He'd wanted to be a doctor. 

Remy had been aiming for law, like their father. Become a lawyer like daddy, that had been his goal from a young age, and he'd been heading off to study law at college when he'd opened the door to a couple of cops one night. Henri had already planned out his future, right down to the med schools he was going to get into, and he'd been damn smart enough to manage it, too. 

And then one night someone brought all that to a brutal, final end. 

He'd gone on to study law at college, but with a different end goal in mind. From the moment he'd sat on their sofa beside his father as the detectives informed them his little brother had been murdered and left like trash on the street, he'd known he was going to be a cop. 

"Sir?" He looked up, startled out of his thoughts. "Berkley's on his way in. We should set up Interview." Remy nodded, and pushed up from the desk and away from the past. Pietro stepped up to the desk to gather up the printouts for the file, and the computer screen caught his eye. Curious, he glanced back at Remy – who was already out the door – and then he turned his attention back to the screen. 

He recognised the boy in the photograph before he read the name 'Henri Francis LeBeau', and he started to turn away, not wanting to pry into something that wasn't his business. But then something else caught his attention, and he couldn't help but read further. Murdered, the case read, stabbed to death in the street and left to bleed out. Tried to dial a number on his phone even as he was dying – his brother, Remy Etienne LeBeau. 

Pietro felt a stab of grief on Remy's behalf. Instead of dialling nine-one-one, Henri had tried to call his brother. Knowing he'd read too much, knowing he shouldn't even be looking at something so private to Remy, he moved away, carrying the printouts out of the office and picking up the file as he strode past his desk. But one word stuck with him even as he walked down to Interview to set things up – one word marked at the top of the case file.

Unsolved.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro learns something about Remy's past.

"Mr Berkley." Pietro took the lead this time, circling the table until he stood across from Harold – who looked even more nervous now that they were conducting the interview in a more formal setting. Remy stood in Observation, watching through the other side of the mirror. "You've been read your rights and obligations. Do you understand them?" 

"Yes. I do." He even sounded nervous. "Why am I here? I told you everything-," 

"You have chosen not to have a lawyer present for this interview?" Pietro cut him off smoothly. 

"I don't need a lawyer, because I haven't done anything." Harold sighed. "I told you. I haven't seen Kyle in months. I only knew he was dead because his mother called to tell me. She thought I should know." 

"Do you know the bar X-Calibur, Harold?" Pietro watched him as he spoke, searching for any tell-tale signs. "Have you ever been there?" 

"Sure, yeah." He nodded. "I went there with Kyle a couple of times." 

"When was the last time you were there?" 

"Oh god, I don't know. I haven't been there since I broke up with Kyle." He shrugged. "It's not really my thing. I prefer quieter places." Pietro studied him, and then he pulled a still from the file, and dropped it on the table. Harold straightened a little to look at it. 

"Is that you, Harold?" 

"I… no." He frowned as he checked the time and date stamp on the still. "I was at home, I told you." 

"We only have your word on that." Pietro pointed out. "And you match the build and colouring of the man seen leaving with Kyle shortly before his death." 

"I didn't kill him!" Harold stood up sharply. 

"Sit down, please." Pietro kept his voice calm, and Harold sighed, sinking back down into his chair. "Unless you have a solid alibi, a way to prove you were nowhere near X-Calibur, who's to say this isn't you, Harold?" He tapped the man in the still. "The man who killed Kyle was invited into his apartment – he'd invite you in, wouldn't he Harold?" He had to go at him hard, he had to push, even though in his heart he believed Harold was innocent. "Maybe you decided to go down to X-Calibur last night. Maybe you ran into Kyle, and the two of you had a few drinks, maybe that spark came back. So the two of you leave, grab a cab back to his apartment." 

"That's not what happened. I wasn't there!" 

"Maybe you're bitter over the break-up. Sure, it was a mutual decision, but maybe you're starting to regret it, maybe you're pissed that Kyle's out and looking for a new man, leaving you behind like you meant nothing. Maybe you get angry." 

"No!" Harold shook his head. "So maybe I still had feelings for him, but I wouldn't hurt him. I loved him!" 

"Maybe you loved him so much you decided no one else could have him. He was yours, and only yours." Pietro pushed at him, but Harold shook his head. 

"I swear, I'd have done anything for him, even letting him go. He wasn't happy with me. I wouldn't force someone to stay in a relationship that's not making them happy." He looked up, met Pietro's eyes. "I was at home. I know I can't prove it, but I was. I didn't kill Kyle." He sighed. "But I think I'd like my lawyer now." 

\-- 

"Damn. I was hoping he wouldn't lawyer up." Pietro sighed as he studied a vending machine. He inserted some money, and punched in a code. 

"When faced wit' a murder charge, most people do." Remy leant against the wall beside the machine, tapping away on his handheld. "We can keep him in holdin' fo' now, an' dere's not much more we can do on dat angle." Pietro bent to grab the can of soda and the chocolate he'd just bought, and sighed again. 

"I know. I still don't think he's our guy." He cracked open the can, took a swig. "The lab identified the rope as a fairly standard cheap brand you'd find in any hardware store, no prints or DNA besides Kyle's." 

"Definitely not a crime o' passion den." Remy muttered. "It was unlikely anyway, but we can rule it out now. Too much preparation involved fo' it to be heat o' de moment. Whoever dis guy is, he planned it out." He frowned. "Did he have a bag wit' him? In de video from de bar – did he have a bag?" Pietro flipped open the file with one hand, and glanced at the still he'd slotted back into the front. 

"Looks like it. Shoulder bag." He nodded. "Must be where he stored the rope and his protection." 

"See if you can get a better shot o' de bag. You never know what migh' break a case fo' you, after all." When Pietro ripped open the chocolate and took a bite, Remy leant over and stole one himself. 

"Hey." Pietro scowled, snatching the bar away. "Get your own." 

"Why, when Remy can jus' steal yours?" He smirked. "C'mon. It's nearly end o' shift, an' dere's not'in' else we can do today besides paperwork. Berkley's in holdin', we'll re-interview tomorrow wit' de lawyer present, an' hopefully we'll find a lead dat points us right to our killer." They walked together back to Homicide, Remy taking the file from him and flipping through it. "Have we checked Berkley's apartment building?" 

"I ran it when I had a spare few minutes. They've got cameras on all entrances, but nothing on the fire escape." Pietro told him. "So even if we go through the tapes to see if Berkley left-,"

"Dere's no way we can prove he didn' leave again." Remy nodded. "So Berkley remains our top suspect fo' de moment, until we can positively identify de man leavin' wit' Young." Jubilee looked up as they approached, but since she had nothing to report to them, she kept quiet. "You should go on home once shift ends, oui?" 

"Yeah. Can't do much else here." Pietro took another bite of the chocolate, and then handed it to Remy. "Here." Remy took it with a grin, and resisted the urge to kiss him. Instead, he touched his fingers to Pietro's, and made the detective roll his eyes. 

"Yo' a keeper, Detective." Remy called as he walked off towards his office. Jubilee waited until he was out of earshot, and then she grinned at Pietro – who, she noted with amusement, was staring after the Lieutenant and _smiling_. 

"There something you want to tell me, Pietro?" He turned to her then, and blinked. 

"What?" 

"I saw that." She sat back in her chair, and smirked. "Sharing a Vulcan kiss with the LT." When Pietro tensed, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Don't try and deny it. Your secret's safe with me." 

"I don't-," he started to deny it, and then sighed. He moved to perch on her desk, and dropped his voice to a murmur. "We're keeping it quiet. Whatever 'it' is. I'm still trying to figure that out myself." 

"I won't say a word." She leant in closer. "I never knew you liked-," 

"If you say 'dick', I'm gonna throw a stapler at you." He groaned. "Look, I keep that private for a reason. I don't… advertise it. I wasn't trying to lie to you or anything." He sighed. "You're pretty much the best friend I've got here, which is why I don't really mind that you know." 

"So how long have you two been…?" She gestured vaguely. 

"Not long." He glanced over his shoulder at Remy's office. "God, Cortez would just _love_ it if he found out. He already accuses me of sleeping my way to success." 

"Yeah but he's full of shit." Jubilee shrugged. "Relax. No one will find out from me." She sat back again, and grinned. "But I'm gonna need details." Pietro rolled his eyes, and groaned. 

"You are unbelievable." 

\-- 

Remy tipped his head back, leaning as far back in his chair as he could, and sighed. Pietro had nipped in to say goodnight two hours ago, and he knew he should be making his way home himself, but he couldn't shut himself down just yet. 

"Go the hell home, Cajun." He jumped at the sudden voice, and nearly fell out of his chair. Logan raised an eyebrow from the doorway. "Did I startle you?" He asked dryly. 

"You should wear a bell or somet'in'." Remy muttered, straightening up and glaring over at him. 

"Yeah, that'll happen." Logan rolled his eyes. "Now I'll say it again. Go the hell home." 

"Remy was jus'…" He trailed off, and sighed. "Alrigh'." He shut the computer down and stood, dragging a hand through his hair. "Jus' don' like bein' nowhere on a case." 

"You got a suspect in holding, Lieutenant." Logan pointed out. 

"Can' prove he was dere, can' prove he wasn'." Remy shrugged, tugging on his coat. "Gotta hope somet'in' breaks tomorrow ot'erwise we're gon' have to let him go. An' den we'll be back at nowhere." 

"Go home, get some sleep." Logan put a hand on Remy's shoulder as he stepped through the door. "Guy like you shouldn't _look_ his age." Remy cocked an eyebrow at that. 

"Gee, yo' such a flatterer." He gave Logan a tired smile, however, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Goodnigh' Captain." 

"Goodnight, Lieutenant." Logan watched him stride away, and smiled. Whatever was going on between Remy and Pietro, he hoped nothing would happen to ruin it. It had been quite some time since he'd seen Pietro smile the way he smiled around Remy. 

He grabbed his own jacket from his office, tugging it on as he took the stairs up to the Commissioner's office. Usually Erik would have gone home by now, but he was dealing with a case from another division, so Logan knew he'd still be at his desk. And, sure enough, when Logan stepped through the door, there he was. 

"Late night?" He asked, catching Erik's attention. 

"Lots of work to deal with." He nodded. Logan wandered over and slumped into the visitor's chair with a sigh. "How are things down in Homicide? I heard Pietro's on a new case." 

"Yeah, they picked it up this morning." Logan told him. "They have a suspect in holding." 

"How are they?" Erik set aside the paperwork for a moment. "Pietro and the Lieutenant? Are they working well together?" Logan bit back his initial response, resisting the urge to laugh. That was certainly one way to put it. 

"They are, yeah. They're a good team, and LeBeau doesn't just order him around or stick him with the paperwork. He's letting Pietro take the lead in interrogations, forces him to use his head, gives him important tasks." He paused. "And I think Pietro keeps LeBeau in line. You know as well as I do that he was a bit of a wayward one. You've read the reports from New Orleans. He's a great cop but-," 

"He's gone over the line a couple of times, yes." Erik nodded. "If I'm honest, if Ororo hadn't assured me he wasn't trouble, he wouldn't have gotten the job." 

"That would have been a mistake." Logan smiled a little. "And like I said, Pietro keeps him in line. I think… I think they're good for each other." And wasn't _that_ a loaded statement? "And you know why he went over the line." Erik folded his hands on the desk in front of him, and sighed. 

"I know." Erik nodded again. "He was lucky. If he'd pulled that trigger-," 

"He'd have lost his badge." Logan cut in. "But he didn't." He saw the look in Erik's eyes, and sighed. "I'm keeping an eye on him, like I said I would. And he went through the required sessions with a police therapist, and got himself signed off. He's been clear ever since, Erik." 

"I know, I know. He definitely wouldn't have gotten the job if that weren't the case." He sat back in his chair and rubbed his hand over his face. "And part of me sympathises. Personal loss can do things to a man." Logan reached over, and put a hand on Erik's arm. He'd been there when Magda had fallen to her illness. He'd seen what her death had done to Erik and the children.

"Why don't we go grab a beer?" Erik looked up, surprised. "This stuff can wait until tomorrow. I've already had to send my Lieutenant home, don't make me do the same to you." Erik smiled, and gathered up the paperwork. 

"Alright. You've convinced me." He tidied it away, and stood. "You can tell me more about this LeBeau, actually. I figure if he's going to be showing up at all hours to steal Pietro away for work I'd better know a bit more about him." As Logan followed Erik out, he smiled. Nice to know the Cajun had followed through on his advice. 

\-- 

At seven the next morning, Remy LeBeau stood over another body. 

"Gregory Hamilton, thirty years old." Pietro stood beside him, reading the data off his handheld. "Blond, like Young. Could be part of a pattern." 

"An' we know Berkley's not our man." He watched the CSIs move around the room, taking photographs and dusting for prints. "Time o' deat' is t'ree-fifteen dis mornin'. Berkley was still in holdin'." 

"Looks like the same MO." Pietro circled around the bed. "Different bruising on the throat." 

"He's made an alteration." Remy nodded. "Strangled wit' a belt, de ME said." 

"Wonder why he changed it?" Pietro frowned. "Maybe manual strangulation was too much work, or… too personal? Wanted to put some distance in it?" 

"When we catch him, we can ask." Remy turned away from the scene, and glanced over to where Gregory's roommate sat with one of the uniforms. "Let's go find out what our vic was up to las' night." He walked over, and perched himself on the coffee table. "It's Ryan, oui?" The roommate looked up, and nodded. 

"Yeah. Ryan Durn. God… sorry. Still trying to get my head around it." He glanced towards the bedroom. 

"We need to ask you some questions." Remy gently brought his attention back to him. "Did Gregory go out last night?" 

"Greg." Ryan said quickly. "He… he hates being called Gregory." He sighed, tugged at the sleeve of his sweater. "Yeah. He went out last night. We both did. Not… not to the same place. I mean, I was out with my girl – I stayed over at her place last night, came back here to shower and grab my stuff for work." He glanced back at the bedroom. "I thought I'd check on him, make sure he didn't oversleep, and then…" He took a deep breath, and shook his head. "He went to this bar, he always goes there. X-Calibur. It's-," 

"We know it." Remy nodded. "We have to ask – did he have any problems wit' anyone? Was dere trouble?" 

"No. No he… he was a good guy. If he was having problems with anyone he'd have told me, but there was no one." Ryan sighed. "Who the hell would do this to him?" 

"A bad person." Remy gave him a sad smile. "But we'll catch dem, an' dey'll pay fo' it." He stood, leaving Ryan to the uniform. "Looks like we got a killer picking his victims from de same place." 

"X-Calibur." Pietro nodded. "Young and Hamilton are similar in size, too – and both blond. Hamilton's hair is longer than Young's, but there's not much in it. Could be we have a victim profile." 

"Oui, looks like." Remy agreed. "Not much we can do wit' it yet. Can' exactly warn all de slender blond gay men not to go home wit' any brunettes, eh?" He sighed. "We're gon' have to go back to de bar, ask some questions. It's possible our killer is one o' de staff." 

"Clayton said he didn't recognise the man Young left with." Pietro pointed out, and Remy shrugged. 

"You ever been in a bar when it's busy, Pietro? De lights are low, dere's a lot o' people an' noise. Could be he jus' didn' get a good enough look at him. We'll run de staff anyway, an' we'll conduct interviews wit' everyone who was workin' last night, an' de night Young was killed." He pulled out his handheld, tapped away at it. "Let's get back to de station, an' get dis runnin'. Remy's put Miss Grey on Hamilton, so we'll chase up de ME report an' de lab results from de scene." 

"He's killed two in two days." Pietro murmured as they left the apartment. "If we don't stop him, he's likely to kill again." 

"X-Calibur is our connection. Dere migh' be ot'er connections, an' de bar is jus' coincidence. We ask de family, friends, co-workers – show de photographs, ask if dey knew each ot'er. But de bar can' be coincidence, so we'll put our focus dere." He paused. "Detective Lee still available?" 

"I believe so. Want me to call her in on this?" 

"Oui. Get her to contact Young's people, show dem Hamilton's picture. We can cross dat off at least." He nodded. "Righ'. Break de news to de family, den back to de station." He sighed again. "Always hate dis part."

"Worst part of the job, telling someone their loved one is dead." Pietro agreed. 

"It's even worse hearin' it." Remy murmured, tucking his handheld away again as he moved towards the stairs. Pietro caught his arm. 

"Are you okay?" He lowered his voice, his tone shifting to one of concern. "You seem a bit… troubled." 

"Remy's fine." He tried to shrug him off, but Pietro held fast. Remy met his eyes, and then relented. "I'm fine, Pietro. Really. Dey jus'… dey remind me o' my brot'er. Dat's all." 

"I'm sorry." Pietro let his hand slide down until his fingers curled around Remy's. He hadn't missed the use of first-person. He knew what it meant. "Do you need a minute or…?" 

"No." Remy smiled and gave his hand a squeeze. "But t'anks." He let Pietro's hand go, and began to descend the stairs, Pietro following behind. "Gon' need to update de Commander on dis." 

"I can contact Hamilton's friends and co-workers while you do that, find out if there's another connection to Young." Remy nodded as they got into his car, and he quickly brought up the address for Greg's parents. 

The notification was as draining as ever, but Pietro couldn't help but notice it had more of an effect on Remy than usual. The drive back to the station was silent, and Remy carried the silence into his office as soon as they were back. Pietro spoke with Jubilee, and got to work – but he glanced over at the closed office door every so often, wondering if he should go in there and talk to him. The closed door, however, told him Remy wanted some space.

Inside the office, Remy stood staring out of his window for several minutes, watching the city below. He didn't know why it was hitting him so hard, but the resemblance to his brother was jumping out at him with both victims. He had to get himself under control. With a sigh, he turned from the window and pulled out his phone, and dialled a number. He'd probably be at work, but-, 

_"Hello?"_  

"Papa?" Just the sound of his voice helped. "It's Remy." He dropped into his chair, and sighed again. "It's probably a bad time-," 

_"It's never a bad time. Not fo' you."_ Remy smiled, dragging his fingers through his hair. _"What's de problem, mon fils?"_  

"Caught a case." He told him. "Two victims so far, potentially more if we don' catch de guy, but… dat's not de problem." He drew in a deep breath. "Dey look like him, Papa." 

_"Oh._ " He heard the shift in Jean-Luc's voice, and regretted calling him. The wound was still as painful for his father as it was for him. _"Remy, dey're not him. You need to make dat distinction, an' keep dem separate. You know what happened-,"_  

"I know, Papa." He cut in sharply. "Dat was different, an' you know it. He was-," 

_"Remy."_ Remy sighed, and fell silent. _"You took de job to get away from dat. I know, I know, dere were ot'er factors involved too, but dat was part o' it. Maybe you should talk to de t'erapist dere, get dis off yo' chest."_  

"I don' need a shrink, Papa." Remy muttered, sparing a glance at the door and hoping no one would interrupt or overhear. "Been dere an' done dat." 

_"It might help to speak to someone, non? If it affects yo' work-,_ " 

"It's not affecting my work." Remy stood, paced the room. "I jus'… I jus' needed to hear yo' voice, talk to you again. Can' exactly run on home dese days, eh?" 

_"_ _New York_ _is quite a way from Nawlins."_ Remy smiled at the laugh in his father's voice. _"But I'm always jus' a call away, mon fils. You know dat, righ'?"_  

"I know, Papa. I know." He looked up just in time to see Pietro stand, and turn towards the office. "I gotta get back to work, Papa, an' you probably do, too." 

_"Oui. You caught me at a good time. How 'bout I give you a call later, an' we can talk more?"_  

"Sounds good, oui." Pietro knocked on the door, and Remy reached for the handle and opened it for him. "Speak to you later. Bye." He hung up, and slipped his phone back into his pocket. "You got somet'in'?"

"Neither victim knew each other, as far as friends and family know. Looks like our connection is the bar, and nothing else." Pietro told him. "I got access to the staff list for X-Calibur, narrowed them down to brunette males. We can ask the manager to provide their contact details and a copy of the shift schedule. If our killer is a member of staff, they wouldn't be working the nights of the murders, not with the time frame." 

"Good, good." Remy nodded. "We'll head down to de bar, ask some questions, bring in de staff who fit de description. We gotta catch dis guy, Pietro. He's gon' kill again, Remy knows it." 

"He could escalate." 

"Almost certainly." Remy agreed. "He's already moved from manual strangulation to de use o' a belt, an' Hamilton was beaten, too, whereas Young wasn't. His rage is growin', an' growin' fast. Two vics in two nights. He don' hang around." He paused, thinking about what his father had said about talking to someone. It was all in his file, he knew that, and although it was sealed from general access, he imagined if someone – say, the son of the Commissioner – asked to see the full file, the request wouldn't be denied. 

And this was something he'd much rather Pietro heard from him, and not from a file. 

"T'ink we got a spare ten minutes?" 

\-- 

"I know we talked about going to dinner again," Pietro murmured as they sat down in a quiet section of a diner, "but I was imagining something a little more… classy." He gave Remy a smile to show it was meant lightly, because the Lieutenant looked a little uneasy. 

"Dis isn' a date, Pietro." He smiled back, but it barely touched his eyes. "But Remy has somet'in' to tell you… somet'in' he t'inks you should know 'bout him." Pietro immediately switched to a more serious mood. The fact Remy wasn't making jokes or flirting told him this was something big. "Didn' want to do dis in de station." 

"Alright." He nodded, understanding. "What is it?" 

"Remember when you asked why Remy came to New York?" When Pietro nodded again, he went on. "Well, dere was a lil' more to it dan de reason he gave you. Oui, Remy wanted de change o' scenery an' de job was promisin', but… he also needed to get out o' Nawlins fo' a while. Remy don' know if yo' fat'er has told you or not, an' it's all in de file anyway, but, well…" He sighed, dragged his fingers through his hair. "Remy kinda lost it a while back." He drew in a deep breath, and decided to just say it. "Remy nearly terminated a suspect in a case." 

"Oh." Pietro blinked, surprised. "I don't understand-," 

"Sometimes we have to, oui, but… dis wasn' dat kind o' situation. De suspect was in interview, unarmed, handcuffed to de table." His hands shook a little, so he kept them beneath the table. "An' Remy pulled his gun an' nearly put a bullet t'rough his skull." He waited for the judgment, the distrust in his eyes. 

"Well you had to have a good reason." Pietro shrugged. "I haven't known you for too long but you don't seem the type to get trigger-happy without a pretty damn good reason." Remy stared at him for a moment, surprised by the reaction. And then he smiled a little. 

"Dat depends on yo' perspective." He shrugged one shoulder lightly. 

"If you don't want to tell me the full story, you don't have to." Pietro told him, part of him wanting to reach out across the table to him. "I won't ask questions." 

"Non, as Remy's partner you need to know dis." He shook his head. "An' Remy means dat in every sense o' de word." He smiled again now, and Pietro returned it. He was still getting used to the words _boyfriend_ and _partner_. "Obviously, Remy didn' pull de trigger, an' he didn' lose his badge. He went t'rough all de required sessions wit' de t'erapist an' passed all de evaluations, an' he went back to work jus' fine. But people were watching too closely, bein' too careful, an' Remy felt kinda smot'ered a bit, so when dis job came up, he decided to take it an' get away from everyt'in'." 

"A new start." Pietro nodded. "I understand that." He wanted to ask why it had happened, but he didn't want to push. If Remy wanted to tell him, he would. There was a moment of silence, and then Remy sighed. 

"He killed my brot'er." _Oh_. "Or, at least, he was responsible fo' it." He shook his head a little, pushing his fingers through his hair. "No proof, o' course. Non, dat would be too easy. See… de case is cold. Unsolved. De police wrote it off as random gang violence, tried to imply dat Henri had got himself into trouble wit' drugs or somet'in', but Henri wasn' like dat. It was more likely dat he was jus' in de wrong place at de wrong time." He sighed. "Remy taught him to defend himself, to stand his ground an' not let anyone walk over him. He probably tried to fight back-," he broke off, drew in a shaky breath. Beneath the table, Pietro reached over and touched his fingers to Remy's knee in a faint gesture of comfort. 

"I hope he got in a few good punches, then." 

"Oh, he probably did." Remy smiled. "Kid had a mean righ' hook." He laughed a little, remembering the few fights they'd had over the years. "Anyway, dis guy came up in de case we were workin', so we drag his slimy ass into interview, an' durin' a line o' questionin' he lets somet'in' slip – intentional, o' course. He pushed de wrong buttons an' den… well, you already know dat part." Remy's hand tightened into a fist, and pushed back the anger. "He knew who killed Henri. He was probably de one who made it happen. But wit'out proof… de bastard is still walkin' free." 

"I'm sorry, Remy." When Remy's hand found his beneath the table, he smiled. "And thank you for telling me." 

"You needed to know." He tried to shrug it off, but Pietro shook his head. 

"No. You could have told me to read the file. Instead, you told me yourself. I know that wasn't easy." He paused, and sighed. "Grief makes you do stupid things sometimes. My mother died when I was a kid. I shut myself off, became really angry at everything… and that kind of grief never lets go of you. It's always there, beneath the surface, waiting to break through. So I get it. You still want justice for your brother, you want the person or people responsible to suffer for what they did. I wanted someone to blame for my mother's death, but there was no one." 

"How did she…?" 

"She got sick. Really sick. It kinda came out of nowhere, really, and there was nothing anyone could do. I tried to throw the blame on the doctors when she died, thinking they could have done something, they could have saved her, but… after a while I realised that they did all they could. It wasn't their fault, not really." Remy gave his hand a slight squeeze under the table. 

"I'm sorry." 

"I'm over it. Well, no, I'm not, but… you get it." He smiled a little, and Remy nodded. "So I understand losing it, losing control for a moment. And hey, I'm not worried." His smile grew, and he shrugged. "If you were a trigger-happy lunatic with homicidal tendencies, my father would never have agreed to the transfer." 

"Well den, you got not'in' to worry 'bout, eh?" Remy grinned, feeling more at ease now. "Yo' not sharin' yo' bed wit' a psycho." 

"Nope." Pietro grinned back, glad to see him somewhat back to normal. "Just an insufferable Cajun pain in the ass." He held up a finger when Remy went to respond. "And you're still not allowed to make that joke. Ever." 

"Not even once?" Pietro rolled his eyes. 

"No. Not unless _you_ want to have a pain in the ass." When Remy smiled slyly, Pietro groaned. 

"Well if you play yo' cards right…" Remy winked, and Pietro rolled his eyes again. 

"You're impossible."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case starts hitting home for Remy.

By the time they got to the bar, there were already a number of people filling the seats and gathering at the bar. The music was on, but not as loud as it would be later in the evening. Remy spotted Clayton immediately, but the blond was absorbed in a conversation with another man, and so he turned instead to the young woman wiping down a table. 

"Excuse us, ma'am." He caught her attention, and flashed her a grin. "It's Di, right?" 

"That's right." She straightened up, tucked dark hair behind her ear. "What can I do for ya?" 

"Can you spare a couple o' minutes? We need to ask some questions." There was a hint of caution in her eyes, but she nodded and led them through the door marked 'Staff only', and into a quiet little room with a couple of chairs. 

"I know you boys are Homicide, so you're not here about the parking ticket I haven't got around to paying yet." She said as she fetched a glass of water, and gestured for them to take a seat. "So my next question is – who's dead?" At a nod from Remy, Pietro produced Gregory's photo. "Don't know him." She shrugged. "I'm guessing he came here or something?" 

"He was here last night." Pietro told her, setting the photograph down on the little table so Gregory would remain the focus. "And this morning, he was found dead in his apartment." Di's eyes narrowed a little. 

"Like Kyle, right?" She sighed. "Damn. Is it the same guy?" 

"We're pursuing a few leads." Pietro said quickly. "Were you here last night?" When she nodded, he went on. "Did you see him around, maybe at the bar?" 

"Not that I remember, but I mean… I saw a lot of people last night." She shrugged. "It's hard to remember all the faces. Plus I tend to notice the ladies more than the fellas." Remy smiled at that. 

"Dey must notice you, too." He told her, and earned a grin. "Can you tell us," he went on, pulling out the list of names Pietro had generated from the staff list, "which o' dese colleagues were workin' last night?" She took the list from him, scanned it.

"Mike was working the bar with me. Uh… Jerry was in charge of music. Phil and Lewis were on the door." She looked up from the paper. "Why?" 

"What about the night before? Do you remember?" She frowned, clearly wanting to ask more questions, but she scanned the list again. 

"Uh, I think Phil was working that night too, maybe Mike? I dunno, I wasn't working that night so you'd have to check the schedule." She shrugged again. "You think it was one of us." 

"Dis bar is de only connection between de victims." Remy told her. "If dey are connected, den we have to look real hard at de people who frequent dis place – which includes de staff. We'd like to take a look at dat schedule, if you will?" 

"Uh… I should probably talk to Clayton." She sighed. "Besides, he's here pretty much every night so he'd be more help to you." She drained the glass of water, and stood, handing back the list. "Let me go get him for ya." As she left, Pietro turned to Remy. 

"We can probably cross a few of those names off the list now." 

"Maybe." Remy shrugged. "We'll see what de schedule says, an' what Clayton can tell us. He's got a good eye – he might have seen Hamilton wit' someone." They looked up when Clayton stepped into the room a couple of minutes later. 

"Gentlemen, not that I don't like seeing your handsome faces, but…" He smiled, taking a seat opposite them. "Di tells me you've got another dead guy." Pietro drew his attention to the photograph on the table. "Ah, hell. I recognise this guy. I can't think of his name, but he came in here pretty regular." 

"Gregory Hamilton." Remy told him. "An' he was here last night. Like wit' Kyle Young, he invited his killer into his apartment." 

"So you think this bastard is picking out victims from my bar?" Clayton frowned now, a hint of anger in his voice. "If I knew who this asshole is-," 

"We already asked Di some questions, but we need to see de schedule fo' yo' staff. We need to know who was workin' de nights o' de murders, an' who wasn't." When Clayton opened his mouth to speak, Remy held up a hand. "We have to ask, Clayton. Staff have de opportunity. We've already singled out any brunette males from yo' staff list, but we'd like to see de full schedule regardless. We don' yet have an image o' de man who killed Hamilton, so we're basin' dis purely on de image o' de man Young left wit'." 

"We could use the security tapes from last night, too." Pietro put in. Clayton nodded, and sighed. 

"Sure, yeah. I'll grab them for you." He stood, and disappeared for a moment. When he returned, he had the schedule in his hand. "I'm just copying the tapes for you. You really think someone on my staff could do this?" 

"You never know what someone can do until dey do it, Clayton." Remy gave him a slight smile. "Is dere anyone you can t'ink o' dat might be capable o' dis kind o' violence? Anyone who migh' give you trouble from time to time, or has a history?" 

"No." He shook his head. "I interviewed every single one of my staff, Lieutenant. I did background checks, everything. This bar needs to be a safe place for us, so I made sure my staff were the right kind of people. They're safe." He paused, glanced down at Gregory's photo. "Or, at least, I hope they are. If it turns out that one of my guys did this, I don't know what I'll do." 

"Don' blame yo'self, fo' one t'ing." Remy smiled. 

"Yeah. I'll let you know how that goes." Clayton turned, and went to fetch the tapes.  When he returned, he handed them to Pietro. "I hope you catch whoever it is soon. The next time I see your faces, I want it to be a social call." He offered them a smile, and Remy grinned. 

"Hopefully dat'll be de case." 

\-- 

Back at the station, they went through the list of staff employed at X-Calibur, eliminated all women and put the men who were working either or both nights to one side. Jubilee took the security tapes, going through them minute by minute in the hopes of catching Greg leaving with his killer, whilst Pietro dug out the contact details for the remaining staff. He started with the brunette men, but until they had confirmation that their killer was, in fact, brunette, he couldn't rule anyone out. 

Remy chased up the ME's report, and dropped by the lab for an update. By the time he returned to Homicide, Jubilee had managed to spot Greg leaving with his assumed killer. They had a better shot of his face – only one side, and the footage was so grainy that any decent lawyer would be able to talk a suspect out of it, but it was better than nothing. When they compared the two images from either night, the computer told them that the probability of it being the same man was around eighty-six percent. Close enough. 

Pietro and Jubilee split the calls between them, contacting as many of the brunette males on the staff list as they could. A couple didn't answer their phones, so messages were left – kept neutral, just wanted to ask some questions, standard procedure. Within an hour, the first of the interviews started. To get through them as fast as possible, Pietro and Remy took them solo, leaving Jubilee to work behind the scenes and keep trying the few men they were unable to reach. 

By the end of the day, they were no closer to putting a name to their suspect. None of the staff triggered any suspicion from either of them, and almost all of them had alibis for the nights in question. Those that didn't were put on a list of people to watch, but there was agreement all around that it almost certainly wasn't someone who worked at the bar. 

"So what do we do now?" Pietro asked, dropping into Remy's visitor's chair in his office. His slicked-back hair had long ago come loose from its style, and several strands flopped down over his forehead. Remy wanted to reach over and sweep them back, run his fingers through that soft, white hair. And then maybe kiss him a little. "I'd suggest putting a patrol vehicle in the area around the bar, but… we don't want him to disappear into the wind. If he spots the cops lingering around, he might run." 

"Dere's not'ing we can do. De staff are aware dat someone is preyin' on de patrons, so dey might keep an eye out fo' anyt'in' suspicious. Clayton will certainly be payin' attention. He don' want us back dere as cops, an' it certainly ain' good fo' business, really." Remy shrugged. "Migh' as well go home." 

"Yeah, guess so." Pietro sighed again – and then he straightened up a little. "Or." 

"Or?" Remy raised an eyebrow, sitting forward a little. Pietro grinned, leaning on the table. 

"You wanna go on a date?" 

\-- 

Pietro was glad they'd arranged to meet at the bar – it had been difficult enough to explain to his father where he was going all dressed up, but he somehow managed to pass it off as work. Although Remy's presence at his door might have enforced that excuse, he didn't want to risk any questions. 

And when he caught sight of Remy, he realised he'd made the right call. 

Gone were the jeans and the plain button-up shirt, replaced instead with a tight-fitting sleeveless jacket that showed off that beautiful sleeve tattoo, unzipped halfway down his chest to display smooth, tan skin, and – yes, those trousers were indeed _leather_. There was no way he'd have been able to pass that off as _work_. 

He didn't miss the looks some of the men were giving Remy as he leant against the wall, a cigarette perched between his lips as he tapped away on his phone. Forgetting for a moment that _anyone_ could be watching, the barest hint of jealousy had him striding over, grabbing him by the front of that damn jacket, and yanking him down for a kiss. 

"Well, hello to you too, Monsieur." Remy purred against his lips when he pulled back, his arm snaking around Pietro's waist. 

"What the hell are you wearing?" He demanded, keeping his voice low. Remy merely grinned, his other hand reaching up to undo the top three buttons of Pietro's shirt. 

"Appropriate attire for a night out." He told him, knocking Pietro's hands away when he went to do them back up again. "You gotta blend in, cher. If he's here, he'll make you for a cop." When Pietro scowled, Remy rolled his eyes and leant in to kiss him. "Jus' relax. We're gon' go in dere, have a couple o' drinks, an' we're gon' keep our eyes out for anyone suspicious." 

"We're on the job, Remy." Pietro pointed out. 

"Not technically." Remy shrugged. "Shift ended, an' unless you told him, de Captain don' even know we're here." 

"My father knows I'm working." 

"Den if we catch dis son o' a bitch, you can tell him dat." Remy draped his arm around Pietro's shoulders, and turned, steering him towards the entrance to the bar. "But right now, we're jus' two guys on a night out. Drink a lil', flirt a lil', an' try not to be a cop." 

"Do you even have your badge?" He hissed, dropping his voice even lower as they neared other people. "I can't see how you can fit anything in those pants. Or even _move_." 

"Pietro." Remy flashed a grin at the security on the door, and waited until they were waved through. "You'd be _amazed_ at what Remy can do in dese pants." As heat flared up under his collar, Pietro watched Remy head straight for the bar. Eyes followed him, many of them fixating on those long, long legs, and Pietro forced back another bite of jealousy. 

He lifted a hand to the 'v' of exposed skin where Remy had unbuttoned his shirt, fighting the itch to do it back up. He glanced around, studying the other men, and realised he probably looked out of place. With a sigh, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, untucked it from his jeans, and ran fingers through his hair to mess it up a little. He had to look less like a cop, and more like the kind of guy who came here frequently. 

He joined Remy at the bar, the crowd of people packed so tightly that he was pressed right up against him. The Cajun glanced down at him and grinned, and one hand settled on his hip in a gesture that Pietro knew was meant to be vaguely possessive. 

"Clayton will know us." Pietro murmured, leaning in closer so Remy would hear. 

"Don' worry." He let his gaze sweep along the bar until he found the blond head of hair that belonged to Clayton. He was leaning over the counter, talking with an attractive brunette. From their body language, they were obviously flirting – and quite seriously, too. "He's busy." When they were finally approached by a bartender – female, one they hadn't met before – Remy ordered a couple of drinks, knowing that if he asked Pietro first the detective would probably ask for a soda, and that just wouldn't do. 

Handing over the vodka cocktail – which was an unnatural shade of orange – he used his free hand to steer Pietro away from the bar and over to one of the tables against one wall. The lights were dimmer over there, which gave them a measure of privacy and would allow them to study the crowd without being too obvious. He slid down onto the plush bench beside Pietro, inching closer until they were thigh-to-thigh, and then he knocked back a quarter of his whiskey. 

"There are too many people." Pietro sighed. "We'll be lucky to see anything." 

"Take it easy." Remy draped his arm around Pietro's shoulders, gesturing with one hand. "We got a clear view o' de main entrance, a fairly good view o' de bar, an' we can do routine sweeps o' de place under de guise o' bat'room breaks or trips to refill our glasses, non?" 

"Right. Yeah." Pietro sighed, forcing himself to relax. He leant against Remy a little, sipping his drink. It wasn't something he'd have ordered for himself, but it was _good_. "A lot of brunette men here tonight." 

"An' no way to know if any o' dem is our guy." He set his drink down on the table, and turned to Pietro, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. When Pietro began to push him away, he rolled his eyes. "What's de problem now?" 

"We're still working, Remy. We need to concentrate." He sighed. "PDA isn't concentrating." 

"We're in a gay bar, surrounded by men an' women doin' exactly de same t'ing." Remy leant in again, nipping at his neck very lightly. "Blendin' in, remember? Besides, are you tellin' Remy dat de great Detective Maximoff can't concentrate when his boyfriend's gettin' intimate?" He slid his hand into Pietro's lap, settled it on his thigh, and then moved it _just_ a little bit higher. Pietro sucked in a sharp breath, and immediately swatted at his hand. 

"Stop it!" He hissed. "You _know_ I can't-," he paused, took a deep breath. "Keep your hands to yourself, _Lieutenant_." Remy laughed, stealing a quick kiss. 

"Fine, fine." He murmured, pulling his hand back. "But Remy's gon' have you up against de wall later." Pietro groaned a little, softly, and yanked him closer for another kiss. 

"You're gonna show me what you can do in those goddamn pants." Grinning, Remy kissed him again, nipping at his bottom lip. 

"Dat's a promise." He murmured against his lips, before he pulled back, and turned his attention to the crowd. 

\-- 

Nearly two hours into the night, there had been no sign of any suspicious brunette leaving with a blond. On the off-chance that the victims both being blond was purely coincidence, Pietro had been keeping his eye on _any_ brunette that left with _anyone_ , but so far he'd seen nothing that struck him as suspicious – and none of them matched the fuzzy partial of the suspect's face they'd seen on camera. 

He let his gaze cross to the dance floor, immediately picking Remy out of the crowd. Even on a busy night, it was practically impossible to _not_ see him – he was at least a head taller than almost everyone else for one thing, but that wasn't what made him stand out. It was the way he _moved_. He was like liquid – fluid movements, his body twisting and swaying with the music, commanding the attention of anyone and everyone on the floor with him. 

_God_ , he was gorgeous. 

Remy was definitely at home here, there was no question about that. He could dance, he could mingle, he could flirt – and people flocked to him like moths to the flame. Pietro sat at the table, nursing a drink, and wishing he could go up there and dance with him. But someone had to keep an eye on the door, and on the bar. Remy couldn't really do that from his current position, and so it was up to Pietro. With a sigh, he forced his eyes away, and went back to his surveillance. 

Remy barely noticed when the song changed to the next – music was music, and it had been a long time since he'd gone dancing. He knew he had eyes on him, and although he knew he should put all his focus on the undercover job, the man won over the cop. He was _enjoying_ this. 

"Hey, man." He turned at the voice beside his ear, and found himself faced with an attractive blond. "Nice ink." A hand stroked the length of his arm, fingertips tracing the card suits in the lower half of the sleeve tattoo. Without saying another word, the man lifted his free hand and tugged aside his shirt, revealing the four suits on his own chest. 

"Merci." Remy purred, easily sliding into his usual flirtatious self. The man easily slid into rhythm with him, the limited space meaning they were pressed almost chest-to-chest. Part of Remy hoped Pietro would notice, because damn if the man wasn't _hot_ when he was jealous. 

"Oh, French?" There was a grin now, sly and as equally flirtatious as his own smile. 

"Close enough." He replied with a shrug. He imagined there was a Frenchman somewhere raging over the idea that Cajun could be anywhere _close_ to French. "Cajun." 

"A Southerner, huh?" He shifted closer, and Remy let him. Blending in. Although if he tried to move it further, he'd slip Pietro's name into the conversation – maybe even gesture over to him. "Name's Jason." 

"Remy." Hell, the guy was cute. A little flirting was harmless. 

"God, even your name is gorgeous." Jason laughed. "Please, _please,_ tell me you're single so I can take you home." Remy laughed a little – he could admire a man who was forward. 

"Whilst dat would be nice, t'ink de boyfriend wouldn't be too happy 'bout dat." He nodded over to Pietro, and Jason turned, following his gaze. 

"Damn." Jason sighed, turning back to him. "Always my luck." He lifted an eyebrow with another grin. "He's not into threesomes by any chance, is he?" Remy laughed again, shaking his head a little. 

"Mon ami, he gets jealous when ot'er people _breat'e_ on Remy. T'ink letting anot'er man put his hands on him might be pushin' it." But, because he was enjoying himself and because Jason was _really_ cute, he leant in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Don' worry, gorgeous. You'll find someone to take home tonight." 

"Yeah, maybe." Jason smiled. "But they won't be half as hot as you." He made to move away, hesitated, and turned back. "You sure you can't talk him into a threesome?" Before Remy could answer, he lifted a hand and laughed. "Kidding. Have a good night, gorgeous." 

"You, too." Remy watched him disappear into the crowd, and then his eyes found Pietro, still sat alone at the table, his glass still half-full. He peeled away from the crowd – making sure to swing his hips a little more, for the benefit of those watching him walk away – and slid onto the bench beside the detective. "Try not to look so grumpy, cher." 

"I'm not grumpy." He rolled his eyes. "That was me concentrating on not looking over at your little show over there." He waved a hand towards the dance floor. "I mean jesus, Remy, that was almost _porn_." Remy laughed, snaking an arm around Pietro and tugging him closer. 

"Dat was not'ing. Jus' wait till you see Remy on a pole." Pietro lifted an eyebrow in disbelief, but when Remy merely grinned his expression shifted to one of surprise. 

"You know how to poledance?" 

"Oui." Remy winked. "Know how to strip, too." He leant in, kissed him. "Maybe Remy will show you sometime, eh?" 

"God yes." Pietro murmured before he could stop himself. Ignoring the heat that rose to his cheeks, he hurriedly picked up his glass and downed the rest of his drink. "I don't think we're going to catch him, y'know. I haven't seen anyone who looks even remotely like him." 

"We only have a partial, Pietro." Remy pointed out – but he had to agree. "C'mon. Come dance wit' Remy." 

"I… I shouldn't. We still need to-," 

"You can see jus' fine from de floor." Remy stood, linking his fingers with Pietro's and tugging him to his feet. Pietro sighed, knowing it was pointless to object, and let Remy lead him onto the dance floor. "You do know how to dance, right?" 

"Of course." Pietro rolled his eyes. Of course, it had been a while since he'd done it in public, but considering there was barely enough room to move he doubted he'd need to do very much. Remy's hands fell onto his hips, held firm, and with some gentle encouragement, his body began to move against Remy's. He slid an arm around Remy's waist, letting himself ease into the movement. Part of his mind was still on the job, but he pushed it to one side, and focused instead on the man pressed so intimately against him. 

When Remy leant down for a kiss, Pietro leant up and met him halfway. 

It was barely ten minutes later before they found themselves staggering through the back door into the alley behind – Pietro's back hit the far wall, and even as his hands reached for Remy he was pressing himself against him, and his lips were on his again, hot and fierce. Pietro's hands reached up, pulled the zipper on Remy's jacket all the way down, and then slid over warm skin, snaking round to his back. When Remy rolled his hips, rocked into him, Pietro dug his nails in and clawed down the length of his back. 

Remy's fingers found his belt – slid lower, and cupped him through his jeans. Pietro moaned into the kiss, his hips bucking forward into his hand. _God_ , he would never get enough of this, of _him_. His hands slid lower, found the waistband of those damn leather trousers, and he pushed his hand inside them. _Fuck_. The little shit wasn't wearing anything underneath. Of _course_ he wasn't. He heard the clink of a belt buckle and realised Remy was seconds away from unzipping his jeans, and somewhere in the back of his mind a voice told him that what they were doing was _illegal_ – but he ignored it. 

And then someone cleared their throat. 

They sprung apart and turned, and finally spotted the two women leaning against the opposite wall, cigarettes in their hands and smiles on their faces. Pietro felt himself blush, and he hurriedly buckled his belt again, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. Or something. 

"Oh, please." One of the women said, her tone friendly. "Don't stop on our account." 

"We were kinda looking forward to the show." The other grinned, waving her hand at them. "Go on. I bet Lisa you were gonna blow him, and I could really do with the extra twenty bucks." 

"Sorry, ladies." Remy grinned, looking completely unapologetic. "Didn' see you standin' dere." 

"No, no." The second laughed. "Please, don't apologise. It was _very_ pleasurable to witness." The first woman – Lisa – rolled her eyes. 

"You'll have to excuse Beth." She told them, though she was still smiling. "She likes pretty men as much as she likes pretty women." 

"Uh, Remy, maybe we should uh…" Pietro murmured, gesturing to the door. Remy grinned, taking his hand. 

"Right. Oui." Knowing the women were still watching, he leant in and kissed him again – a promise to finish what they'd started. "C'mon den handsome, let's go somewhere a lil' less public." He let Pietro lead the way back inside – but he hesitated by the door and flashed the ladies a grin. "Lisa owes you twenty bucks." When they both raised their eyebrows with a smile, Remy winked. "Was totally gon' blow him." As they laughed, Remy waved a hand, and followed Pietro back through the bar. 

\-- 

"I can't believe we almost…" Pietro sighed, sprawled on Remy's hall floor an hour later, "… in an _alley_." He shook his head. "That's against the law." 

"Oh, but dat makes it even mo' excitin'." Remy grinned, pushing himself up on one elbow to glance down at him. They'd barely made it through the door before Pietro had pounced him, so it was no surprise they hadn't made it much further. Besides, he'd promised Pietro he'd have him up against the wall, and so he _had_. 

"Shut up." He groaned. "And if those women hadn't announced their presence… we'd have had an _audience_." 

"Again," Remy purred, leaning down to trail kisses over Pietro's collarbone, "makes it mo' excitin'." 

"… Why am I not surprised that you'd find that exciting?" He sighed. He pushed himself up, stretching until he felt something crack. He turned, studying the long length of the Cajun beside him. "How is it that I find myself completely naked, yet you haven't lost a single item of clothing?" 

"Well, if Remy recalls…" Remy sat up with him, dropping a hand onto Pietro's thigh. "You were so eager to have Remy inside you dat you didn' bot'er wit' undressin' him." 

"It's those damn pants." Pietro groaned, and Remy laughed, leaning in to steal a kiss. When Pietro pulled back, he reached for his jeans and fished into the pocket to check the time. "Shit. It's pretty late. If I go home now my dad will probably want to know where I've been." 

"Den jus' stay here." Remy purred, trailing kisses along his shoulder. "An' we can have more sex. Dere could be a bed involved." He nipped lightly at his jaw and growled playfully. "Remy'll even get naked dis time, promise." Pietro laughed, turning to kiss him, his fingers threading through Remy's hair. 

"Well, how could I refuse an offer like that?" He'd have to deal with questions about where he'd been all night, but he had several hours to think of an excuse. Right now, all he wanted to think about was getting Remy out of those damn trousers. 

And, of course, that _would_ be when Remy's phone decided to ring. He fished it out of a pocket in his jacket, and frowned at the screen for a moment before answering, laying a hand gently against Pietro's chest to hold him back. Pietro knew what that meant. Work. Which, at this hour, meant murder. 

"Oui?" 

_"Lieutenant? It's Officer Pryde. I've got something here you might want to take a look at. Might be one of yours."_  

"What's de address?" He listened as she listed a street, and he heard sirens in the background. "Raped, an' strangled?" 

_"Well that's the thing, sir. I called you as soon as I got a look at the victim. Figured you'd want to know as soon as possible._ " There was a pause as she spoke to someone in the background. _"The vic's alive, sir. Unconscious, but alive. A couple found him on their way home, called for the police and the ambulance, and then began CPR."_ Remy listened as she told him which hospital he'd been taken to, gave her instructions on what to do next, thanked her, and then cut the call. 

"Get dressed, Pietro." He said as he stood, heading for the bedroom. "Our killer struck again, but he didn't finish de job dis time." Pietro scrambled up, and gathered up his clothes. 

"The vic's alive?" 

"Currently on his way to de hospital. We'll head dere first, check on his condition, den we'll swing by de scene. Dis guy doesn't mess up, Pietro, so eit'er he's gettin' too confident or somet'in' happened to make him screw dis up." Pietro dressed hurriedly, and watched as Remy emerged from the bedroom a couple of minutes later in jeans and a sweater. "Officer Pryde told Remy a street name, Pietro. Not an apartment, or a house, or a dorm. A street." There was anger in his eyes now, and it didn't take a genius to work out why. "Let's go." 

Pietro knew better than to remind Remy that he was over the legal limit and shouldn't be driving, but when they stepped out onto the street and over to Remy's car, the Cajun surprised him by tossing him the keys. Remy said nothing as he opened up the passenger door and slid in, so Pietro hurried around to the other side and climbed in behind the wheel. 

"Remy don' usually care for rules much." Remy murmured as Pietro started the engine, trying not to delight too much at the power he felt beneath his fingertips. "But he knows he's over de limit. An' besides, de last t'ing Remy needs to do when he's dis angry is drive." He shook his head with a sigh. "Damnit. I'm makin' it too personal." Pietro noted the use of first person, and chose his words carefully as he turned in the direction of the hospital. 

"Don't be angry." He told him, his tone level. "It's easier said than done, I know, but trust me. Instead of letting the anger burn and boil, and escalate into something you can't control, channel it into something else. Use it as fuel." Remy remained quiet, and so he went on. "After a while, I realised being angry about my mother's death wasn't helping. It was having a negative effect on my life, and it was starting to affect my sisters, too. So instead of just being angry, I put all that anger into my running, my school work. Every time I got angry, I went for a run, or I opened up a book and studied. And it worked, oddly enough." 

"An' now?" 

"Now? Now I use it to be a good cop." Pietro smiled a little, though he kept his eyes on the road. "I burn off the anger by putting in the hours at the station, by going out there and stopping criminals. And every time I can tell a parent, a child, a partner, that I've caught the bastard who hurt the one they love, I forget about being angry." When a hand came to rest on his knee, Pietro's smile grew. He took a hand from the wheel and laid it over Remy's, curling his fingers around his hand and holding it tightly. 

The rest of the drive to the hospital was made in silence, and they maintained the silence as they were directed through the hospital to the room where their victim – as yet unnamed – was being kept under close surveillance. Two uniforms stood either side of the door, and they nodded to Remy and Pietro as they opened the door and stepped inside. A nurse was fixing one of the IVs, and a doctor stood studying a chart at the end of the bed. He looked up as they entered. 

"Lieutenant LeBeau." Remy said before he could speak, holding up his badge. "What's his condition?" 

"He's very lucky to be alive." He told them. "Dr Madrox." He held out a hand, and Remy shook it. "He's sustained minor bruising to the face, signs of being beaten. There are a few minor injuries to his back, and his knees – nothing more than scrapes, really. We've yet to do a full examination, but besides the strangulation, he hasn't suffered any other major trauma." 

"Doctor, de ot'er victims were raped. Was he…?" 

"Not that we've found so far." Dr Madrox shook his head. "I'm told he was partially stripped when he was found, so it's likely that was the intent, however there was no obvious blood or tearing that the paramedics could see, and we've found no indications that the attempt was successful." He cast a glance to the blond man in the bed, and sighed. "I have to say, Lieutenant – if that couple hadn't walked by when they did, we might not be standing here. I can safely say they saved his life." 

"Den we'll make sure dey know dat." Remy nodded. "Has he regained consciousness at all?" 

"Not so far, which is to be expected in his condition. If he continues to improve, there's a good chance he will regain consciousness, though when that will be I cannot say for sure. Of course there is always the chance that he may not wake at all." Remy nodded again, and fished out a card, handing it over. 

"When he wakes – _when_ ," he repeated with confidence, "you call us right away." 

"Of course, Lieutenant." Dr Madrox took the card, and tucked it into the pocket of his white coat. "I don't suppose you know if he has identification? The officer who came with the ambulance said no wallet was found. It would be helpful if we could access his medical records." 

"Sorry, Doc. If dey've found anyt'in' on scene, we haven' heard." He glanced at the man in the bed, face black and blue and swollen on one side. "As soon as we know, we'll get de info'mation to you right away-," he broke off as the nurse moved to adjust one of the wires monitoring his vitals, pulling aside the hospital gown to reveal a tattoo of the four card suits. "Jason." 

"Excuse me?" Dr Madrox frowned. Remy rushed to the bed, gently grasping the nurse's wrist when she made to tug the gown back into place. 

"Dat tattoo." He murmured, his heart pounding. "God, he…" 

"Do you know him, Lieutenant?" 

"Non. Jus'… met him earlier, in a bar. He came over to show his tattoo, 'cause…" He tugged at the sleeve of his sweater until his own card suit tattoo was revealed. "His name's Jason. He didn' give a last name."

"Well, at least we can put a name to the face." Madrox smiled faintly. "I'll be sure to give you updates on his condition, Lieutenant." 

"Right, right… t'anks." Remy moved away from the bed, heading for the door. "Don' let anyone in here dat you don' know personally, Doc. Jus' in case." 

"He'll be closely guarded, Lieutenant. I assure you." Nodding, still a little shaken, Remy pulled open the door and stepped out into the corridor. He gave instructions to the uniforms guarding the door, and then gestured for Pietro to follow him. He made it two corners before he fell back against the wall, dragging his fingers through his hair. 

"Dieu." He whispered, closing his eyes for a moment. Pietro stepped up beside him, and put a hand on his back. 

"Remy?" 

"I told him he'd find someone to take home." He murmured. "When he was disappointed dat he couldn't take Remy home… told him he'd find someone else." He pushed away from the wall, away from Pietro. "De time frame… he was dere, Pietro. He was at de bar." 

"We couldn't have seen him." Pietro shook his head a little. "We couldn't have seen everyone there, it just wasn't possible. Too many people, too many bodies pressed together. There was no way we could have seen his face in that crowd, even if we had a full ID." 

"But he was _dere_ , Pietro!" 

"And we were watching, the whole time. We couldn't have seen him." Pietro repeated, more firmly this time. 

"Not de whole time." Remy said quietly. "We weren't watchin' when we went out back." 

"Don't." Pietro cut in sharply. "Don't do this to yourself, Remy. Even if we'd been sat at that table from open until closing, watching every face in that crowd, he would have still slipped by us. We don't know what he looks like. All we have are vague guesses based on grainy security footage and a partial description from a witness. Yes, we took our eyes off the bar for ten minutes. Yes, we forgot about the job in favour of acting like horny teenagers. But you don't stand there and blame yourself for something you couldn't control." 

"He left him in de street!" Remy snapped, his raised voice drawing the attention of some nurses at a station down the corridor. "He was a nice guy wit' a sweet smile, he'd done not'in' wrong, an' he left him in de street to die, alone!" When Remy's hands trembled and tears sprang into his eyes, Pietro moved forward. "He… he left him…" Pietro pulled him into his arms as the first sob escaped, and held him tight. 

"I know." He murmured softly, his heart aching as Remy's arms came around him, hands clutching at the back of his shirt. "I know." He knew Remy was thinking of the bright young boy his brother had been. He knew he was thinking about how someone had left that sweet boy to die, alone, in the street. "But he's not alone now. He has you to stand for him now, to find that son of a bitch and make him pay for the things he's done. You have to hold it together Remy, because Jason needs you to fight. He needs you to do your job, so he can smile again." When Remy pulled back, Pietro could see that he was already pulling himself back together. 

"Yo' right." He muttered, straightening his shoulders. "He's not alone now." Pietro smiled, lifting a hand to brush away a few stray tears. 

"Neither are you."


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is the case finally drawing to a close?

Pietro stood in the chill of the early morning air, staring down at the dirty alley ground where Jason had been found. A team had already swept the area for prints or DNA, and from what the two uniforms on scene could tell them, they'd found fibres from what they believe was the rope intended to tie Jason up. With nothing more to go on, Remy instead turned his attention to their location. 

"Dey walked." He murmured. "Dis street is only 'bout ten minutes from de bar, at a brisk pace. T'row in a couple o' minutes to account for drunken stumblin', maybe a couple more for some playful foolin' around along de way… he has to live close." 

"We still don't have an ID." Pietro sighed. "Or, not enough of one to run him, get an address and a next of kin. God, someone needs to know he's in there. Someone needs to be there for him when he wakes up." He paused, sighed again. "If he wakes up." 

"He'll wake up." Remy snapped sharply, and then winced. "Sorry." He shook his head as if to clear it, and drew in a deep breath. "Why de alley? Especially if he lives close by… why not just wait until yo' safe inside somewhere? Why risk it?" He frowned, turned on the spot. "An' why did you mess up?" Pietro said nothing, letting Remy walk through it himself, letting him speak his thoughts out loud. "De couple said dey spotted Jason in de alley, but it's dark an' it's late, an' dey were t'inkin' o' home… so why did dey see him?" 

"Officer Pryde got their statements." Pietro said quietly, wondering if Remy would even hear him. "I read through the report whilst you were walking the scene. The guy dropped his lighter when he went to light a cigarette, and it bounced into the mouth of the alley. The woman thought he was homeless at first, but the guy said something didn't feel right to him. Good thing he went with his instincts otherwise Jason might not have made it." 

"It still don't explain why he used de alley instead o' de bedroom." Remy shook his head, surveying the area again. "An' why he didn't finish de job." Movement caught his eye from across the street, and he watched as a skinny man made a small beckoning gesture with one hand. Eyes narrowed, he motioned for Pietro to follow him, and he crossed the street towards him. He stopped a couple of paces away, and made a point about touching his fingers to the gun on his hip. The skinny guy nodded, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth in a nervous gesture. 

"You're cops, right? But like, important cops. Ya don't wear the uniforms." He spoke quickly, almost frantic. Remy suspected he was a junkie. The wide bloodshot eyes and lank, greasy hair also gave him that impression. 

"Oui. We're real important." Remy murmured, settling his hand more firmly on his gun, just in case. "Wit' real important t'ings to do, so you better not be wastin' our time." 

"Got information." The guy nodded quickly. "But it's gonna cost." Remy raised an eyebrow. 

"Say, Detective, what do real important cops like us do to time-wasters?" 

"I'm not allowed to say, sir. Too damaging to fragile minds." Pietro replied, making sure he sounded just that little bit more official than usual. And then he leant in a little, and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "But I can tell you that it involves nightsticks and places you don't want them to be shoved." The skinny guy's face paled a little, and he turned wide eyes to Remy once more. 

"It's good information! You'll want it!" His voice rose to a frantic whine. "Just gonna cost ya a little. Gotta give to receive, yeah?" Remy gave a bored sigh. 

"Detective, what are the chances o' Remy givin' dis slimeball any money?" 

"I'd say slim to none, sir." Pietro replied dutifully. 

"An' what is he likely to receive instead?" 

"Your boot up his ass, sir." Pietro didn't even miss a beat. He made a show of glancing down at Remy's boots, and wincing. "They're very nice ones, too. Damn. You might get slime on them." Remy nodded solemnly, keeping his eyes on the man's. 

"An' dat's just gon' piss Remy off even more." He paused, waited for that to sink in. "So you got two options, ah…" He trailed off, raised both eyebrows expectantly. 

"Micky. Just Micky." 

"Well then, _just Micky_ , you got two options. Option number one, you can demand payment for whatever information you t'ink you have for us, an' Remy will put his boot up yo' ass, or option number two, you can give us de information an' Remy will repay you by _not_ puttin' his boot up yo' ass." He gave Micky a smile that was equal parts dangerous and friendly. "What'll it be?" 

"Can't blame a guy for trying, right?" Micky laughed, a nervous high-pitched sound. "Look, I was just minding my own over here, okay? I wasn't doing anything, I swear! Just walking by, all casual like-," 

"Get to de point or Remy might ret'ink his offer." 

"Right, right. I'll tell ya!" He shuffled back a little, and his eyes dropped down to glance quickly at Remy's boots. "So like I said, I was over here, minding my own, and I hear something from down the alley. Sounded like people, so I went over there. See sometimes you get guys going down there for a bit of, well, _y'know_ , so-," 

"What, you were gonna watch? Is that what yo' into, Micky?" 

"No way! I was going in there 'cause that's usually a good time to pick-," he broke off sharply as he realised what he was about to say, and shot them a nervous look. 

"You were going in there to pick their pockets." Pietro rolled his eyes. "Sir, it seems to me we have a very respectable witness here." He murmured dryly. Micky gave another nervous laugh. 

"Guy's gotta eat somehow." He shrugged. "But anyways look, that won't matter when I tell ya what happened." 

"So tell us." Remy let his irritation show in his voice. He wondered if he should crouch, and make a point of shining the toe of his boot. 

"Alright, alright. I'm telling ya! So I step into the alley, all quiet like, and yeah it's two guys. Only they're not like, touching each other or nothing. This one guy's got the other pinned to the ground, and it already looks fishy 'cause the one on the floor is struggling, trying to kick him off. Then I notice the other guy's got something wrapped around his throat and that's about when I ran off." Micky wiped his hand across his mouth again. "I was gonna call the cops, I swear. But I got no phone so I was heading for the payphone the next block over. I swear to you! You can ask Jim, in the burger bar on the corner. That's where the phone is, he saw me!" 

"We'll take yo' word fo' it at de moment." Remy cut in. "You didn't try to stop him? At all?" 

"Hey man, look at me, yeah? I couldn't fight off a six year old girl like this, and this guy was like… super buff. Probably goes to the gym every day or something. Figured the best option was to go get help instead of getting myself dead, yeah?" Micky shrugged. "Anyway I didn't have enough change for the phone so I went in to Jim 'cause he sometimes lends out coins if it's an emergency, but by the time I'd convinced him I wasn't just looking for beer money I could hear sirens and figured the cops were already on their way. I came back here and saw the ambulance drive off. The guy's okay, yeah?" 

"Yeah, he's okay." Remy told him, having not missed the genuine concern in Micky's bloodshot eyes. "Did you get a good look at him, Micky? Anythin' you can tell us?" 

"Nah. It was dark, and I got out of there pretty fast. But he was kinda big, like I said. And I think he had dark hair." He shrugged. "Couldn't tell ya." He paused, as if remembering something. "Hey, do ya think I might have put him off? 'Cause when I ran out I knocked an empty can or something on my way." Remy perked up a little at that. 

"Y'know what, Micky? I t'ink you might just have, oui." Micky grinned. 

"Good, good." He paused again. "Hey, uh, I gave ya good information, right? So maybe just a little-," he broke off when Remy simply glared, and laughed nervously again. "Alright, alright. I get it. Hey man I hope ya get the guy."

"We will." Remy told him, and stood by to watch as Micky scampered off into the night. "You can count on dat." 

"So, we know why he didn't finish Jason off." Pietro murmured. "He was interrupted, and no doubt Micky was already halfway down the street by the time he realised he'd been caught." 

"He couldn't know how long befo' de cops turned up, so he ran." Remy shook his head. "We need to find him, Pietro. He won't be happy dat he got interrupted. He might escalate again." 

"Then we'll find him."

"Call in anyone an' everyone you can. Tell dem to get deir asses to de station wit'in de hour, an' dat any complaints will result in desk duty fo' de next mont'." He pulled out his phone, dialled a number. "Remy gotta make a call." 

\-- 

This wasn't the first time the team had been called in before sunrise, and it was almost certainly not going to be the last time, either. By the time they started to file into the conference room Remy had commandeered for their use, Remy had already moved his murder board to the front of the room, and was standing studying it when they took their seats, some of them hunched over steaming mugs of coffee. When he turned to face them, any thoughts of complaining went out the window. Not even Cortez would have argued against a man who looked so determined.

"Two young men killed. Same MO, wit' minor adjustments. Same scenario. Same guy." He gestured to the print-outs from the security tapes that he'd pinned to the board. "So far we have no ID, no complete image of his face. All we have to go on is a basic description dat could fit most o' New York." Anger inched into his voice, along with frustration. He paused, pulled it back. "For dose of you who are unaware, our suspect is pickin' up blond men in deir late twenties, early t'irties at de gay bar X-Calibur, where he slips somethin' into deir drink. Den he takes dem back to deir place, waits fo' dem to pass out, an' ties dem up." He gestured to the rope the lab had traced. "Dis rope can be bought in any general store, any hardware store. It's generic, it's cheap. Safe to say we're not gon' lock dis guy down followin' dat angle." 

No one spoke. No one even raised their hand to ask a question. Remy liked that – they knew when to listen, and when to question. He let his eyes travel over each of the faces looking his way, reading their expressions carefully, before he went on. 

"He eit'er waits fo' dem to wake up, or he wakes dem up himself. Den he rapes dem." He paused as a couple of people winced. "He wants dem to feel it. He wants dem to know what he's doin', wants dem to be aware. He wants dat power, wants to see de fear. An' when he's done wit' dem, he strangles dem." He moved across the board, touched a hand to Kyle's photograph. "Wit' Kyle Young, he used his bare hands. More personal, an' it takes longer, takes more strengt'." He moved to Greg. "Gregory Hamilton was beaten. Perhaps he struggled, or said somethin' to anger de suspect. De MO was altered – he went from manual strangulation to de use of a belt." He moved again, and slammed his hand flat against the empty space above the limited details of the third victim. The sudden, sharp sound made a couple of people jump. "Early dis mornin', he tried to take a t'ird. Jason is currently at de hospital, fightin' for his life. Unlike de previous two, he was taken into an alley on de way home, an' our suspect was interrupted when a pickpocket stumbled upon dem. He fled de scene before he could finish de job, an' Jason was lucky enough to be found by a couple before it was too late. He was strangled, but not raped. Left to die in de street." His voice cracked a little on the last word, and he turned, pretending to study the board whilst he fought to compose himself. 

Pietro sat near the front, itching to go up and take his hand, knowing he couldn't. He wished he could have at least been standing up there with him, so he could at least take over with further information to give Remy more time. But if he stood now, it would only draw attention to the shake in Remy's voice, so he stayed in his seat. 

"De hospital will update us on Jason's condition if anyt'in' changes." He turned back to them, composed once more. "If he wakes, he may be able to give us a face, if not a name. Until den, we're gon' be workin' around de clock to find dis guy befo' he tries again. A handful of you are gonna go over de staff from X-Calibur. We've done initial interviews wit' most o' dem, but yo' gon' go over everyt'in' again jus' in case. Detective Lee," Jubilee perked up, straightening in her chair, "Remy wants you to look for like crimes." When Pietro opened his mouth to speak, he held up a hand. "Detective Maximoff did a run fo' like crimes back at de start o' de case, but dis time yo' gon' include like crimes involving women too. Expand de search, go t'rough everyt'in' you t'ink is relevant. If you need to, you can pull anot'er detective in to help." 

"Yes, sir." She nodded, already pulling out her handheld. 

"Remy wants a team to go to each crime scene, knock on doors, harass neighbours if necessary. Someone will have seen somet'in'. Dey always do. Cortez, yo' gon' talk to de couple who found Jason, go over everyt'in' twice, t'ree times if you have to. Remy wants to know every single detail. Anot'er team is gon' go over de security tapes we've already collected from X-Calibur. Remy wants every second scanned. He's smart, but tonight proves he can make mistakes. Detective Maximoff, yo' gon' collect de tapes from tonight, an' go t'rough dem yo'self." Because they were on there, he knew. Whilst they could explain it as working a scene, he wasn't sure if the cameras would have caught the fierce kiss Pietro had greeted him with. "An' now, Remy will give up de floor to Dr Frost."

"Thank you." The woman who rose to her feet was a well-known face in Homicide. Emma Frost was the department's best criminal profiler, as well as the department's resident therapist. As she took her place at the head of the room, Remy sank into the empty chair beside Pietro, and sighed very softly. Pietro shifted, crossed a leg over the other in an attempt to obstruct the view of anyone who happened to glance their way, and laid his hand carefully on Remy's arm. He lingered for a moment before he let his hand slip down, their fingers locking very loosely beneath the table. Remy's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he gave Pietro's fingers a gentle squeeze before he let go. 

Emma began to lay out a profile for their suspect, drawing on the points Remy had brought up about power, about wanting his victims to be at his mercy, to be afraid of him and what he could do to them. Part way through, Remy's phone rang, and he rose, excusing himself as he made his way to the door. When he stepped back into the room, Emma was just finishing the profile. He let her finish, and then he stepped up beside her.

"Detective Maximoff. Change o' plans." He slipped the phone back into his pocket, and gestured for Pietro to stand. "We're heading to de hospital. Jason's awake." 

\-- 

"I'm not entirely happy about this, Lieutenant." Dr Madrox said, lingering with one hand on the doorknob. "He's in a very fragile state. His throat is badly bruised, so talking is not entirely recommended." When Remy began to argue, he held up a hand. "Now I am very aware that this is important to finding out the identity of who did this to him, so I'm willing to make an exception. However I insist on being present, and when I tell you he's had enough, I expect you to listen. Otherwise you won't set foot in there." 

"Yo' de boss, Doc." Remy told him. Dr Madrox sighed, and then opened the door and led the way in. Jason sat propped up in bed, his eyes closed. The steady beeping and humming from the machines he was hooked into reminded Pietro all too vividly of his mother's final days, and he forced himself to focus on something else. Remy took the chair beside the bed as Madrox leant over to gently touch Jason's shoulder. When he jerked awake, Madrox inched back very slightly. 

"It's okay, Jason. It's Dr Madrox." Jason drew in a wheezy breath, and then settled again. "The police are here, Jason. They want to ask you some questions, but don't push yourself. Take it slowly." Jason nodded, and turned his gaze to Remy – and the faintest of smiles crossed his bruised face. 

"Please tell me you're a stripper and this is part of my healing process." His voice was raspy and faint, and he coughed a little with the effort of speaking. Dr Madrox immediately moved in, holding a plastic cup full of water, a straw poking out the top. Jason took a sip, wincing as he swallowed. 

"Sorry, handsome." Remy smiled easily. "Gonna have to disappoint you again." 

"Damn." Jason coughed again, and took another drink. 

"I won't take up much o' yo' time, an' I'll try to ask questions wit' short answers." Remy began. "Startin' wit' yo' full name." 

"J-Jason… Banner." He managed to stammer it out, and Pietro immediately stepped away from the bed as he pulled out his handheld to run the name to get an address and a next of kin. 

"If de answer is a simple yes or no, I want you to jus' nod or shake yo' head, okay?" When Jason nodded, he went on. "De man who did dis to you, did you meet him at X-Calibur?" Jason nodded, and Remy quickly made a note in his notebook. "Did he buy you a drink?" Another nod. "An' den what happened?" 

"Offered… to take him home." He managed another weak smile. "Had better luck with… that gorgeous brunette." That had Remy glancing up from his notebook. 

"He had brown hair?" Another nod. "Can you describe him, Jason? Do you remember what he looked like?" 

"Yeah, mostly." He said as he nodded again. "It's still a bit foggy in here." He lifted a hand, shakily tapped the side of his head. "But I could try." 

"We'll get a sketch artist to sit wit' you, an' talk you t'rough it." Remy turned, gave a nod to Pietro, who stepped out of the room to make the call. "Did he give you a name at all?" 

"Yeah, I… I think it was… Zack, maybe?" He shook his head a little. "Could have been Jack. Loud in there, y'know?" When he coughed a little harder, Remy caught the warning look Dr Madrox sent his way. Remy took the cup and held it up for Jason to drink, waited patiently for him to be done. 

"So you left de club toget'er. What den?" 

"Walked." Jason paused, shifted a little. "I live nearby. So… we walked. Then he's taking me into this alley… says he can't wait." He shook his head, closed his eyes. "I'm dizzy, and everything's going blurry. Thought I'd drunk more than I thought. Think I blacked out for a bit, 'cause then… he's got me on the floor. Tried to kick him off. Can't really remember much else." 

"Dat's fine, you're doin' good, Jason." Remy looked up as Pietro stepped back into the room, and then jerked back when Jason's hand gripped his. 

"He was gonna rape me. I could feel it. That's when I knew… he drugged me. God, and he kept hitting me…" He shook a little, and Remy gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

"Yo' safe, Jason. He won't hurt you again, I'm gon' make sure o' dat. I'm gon' find him, an' t'row him in a cage fo' what he's done." When Jason seemed to relax a little, he smiled. "It's a crime to mess up such a pretty face, eh?" 

"You probably shouldn't make me laugh." Jason managed a grin this time. "Or flirting with me in front of your boyfriend." He glanced over to Pietro, and Remy grinned as he followed his gaze. Pietro merely shrugged one shoulder. 

"He flirts with anything that breathes. I'm used to it." 

"Jason, I need you to t'ink real hard for me. Before he pulled you into de alley, did you say anyt'in' to him dat might have put him off goin' to yo' place?" Jason frowned, closing his eyes as he thought back – and then his eyes snapped open. 

"My brother." He murmured. "My brother's in town… staying with me for a few days. I forgot about it until we were walking… told him we'd have to sneak past my brother. Then a couple of minutes later he was taking me into the alley and-," 

"Jason." Remy cut in, before he could go further down that road. "I won't tell you dat yo' lucky, 'cause yo' still in a hospital bed forcin' down painful sips o' water, an' dere's not'in' lucky 'bout dat. But what I will tell you is dat you put up a fight, an' dat stopped him from doing anyt'in' else. Fightin' him off de way you did gave a pickpocket de chance to catch him in de act, which led to him runnin' off, an' you bein' found in time. You did good, Jason. Any time he tries to haunt you, you jus' t'ink 'bout dat." 

Dr Madrox chased them out after that, insisting that his patient needed to rest. Pietro waited until they were in the car before speaking. 

"You made sure to use first person with him. To connect, make it personal." He murmured, smiling over at Remy. "That helped. I could see it." 

"It is personal." Remy sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. Pietro could see he was exhausted, but he knew it'd be pointless to suggest he grab a couple of hours' sleep. Remy wasn't going to sleep until they'd caught this guy. 

"Sketch artist is on the way in. He'll probably have to fight Dr Madrox, but we'll have his face soon enough." He pulled up Jason's information on his handheld. "Jason Banner, twenty-eight. Works as a photographer for a modelling company."

"Dat'll come in handy." Remy murmured. "Photographers are good wit' faces. Dey notice t'ings most people don't." Pietro nodded his agreement. 

"I have his address. Shit, he lives a street away from that alley. Almost home." He shook his head a little. 

"Better head over dere, inform de brot'er." Remy waited whilst Pietro input the address into the car's navigation system, and sighed again. "You'd t'ink it'd be easier, tellin' him his brot'er's not dead, but it isn't." 

"Do you want me to do that?" Pietro asked carefully. "Because I can. You don't have to." Remy glanced over, ready to snap back that he was fine, he could do it, but then he stopped. Pietro was looking at him with such concern, and he had to remind himself that Pietro knew why this was hard for him, why he was having trouble controlling his emotions. Pietro _cared_. 

"Actually…" And so, instead of snapping that he was fine when he really wasn't, he admitted to needing help. "Dat would be good, t'anks." 

"Alright." Pietro nodded. "I'll do it, but on one condition." When Remy began to argue, he simply spoke over him. "You have to get some sleep. An hour, two… hell, even half an hour if it's all you can manage. But you're exhausted, Remy. You've been out all night, and you could use some peace." He smiled, reaching over to take his hand. "Go home. Curl up with your cats and shut your mind down for a while. I'll call you if anything comes up, I promise." 

"… If you t'row in a kiss, too, Remy might say yes." Pietro rolled his eyes, and leant over to bring their lips together. Remy sighed into the kiss very softly, and then settled back into his seat. "Okay. Remy'll drop you at de station, an' den he'll go home to get some sleep. Well… he'll try. Promise." 

And he did. 

He staggered into his apartment, shedding clothes as he went, and dropped face-down onto the bed. When the cats jumped up to join him five minutes later, he was already asleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case comes to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay in getting this chapter done, but I was entertaining a guest from overseas for the past couple of weeks so I didn't have much time for writing. I'm hoping to get back into a regular schedule from now on.
> 
> Also I wanted to get this chapter finished for my friend's birthday, and I didn't succeed, so a special mention goes to Charlie, who played a big part in the creation of this AU and frequently headcanons and plots with me for it to this day.

In his dream, he was sitting on the sofa back home. It took him a moment or two before it sank in where he was, and that the basketball game he was watching on the TV was years old and seemed to be frozen in a pause. Frowning, he glanced down at himself, and recognised the faded Star Trek shirt and jeans with the huge tear in one knee. There were a few slices of pizza going cold in the box on the coffee table, and a half-empty bottle of beer on a coaster, another two empty ones lined up on the floor. His phone sat on the sofa beside him, open on a text message he remembered sending so vividly it could have been only hours ago. 

_'You're gonna be late. Papa's on his way home so if you're quick you can sneak in the front door before he notices. I'll wait to let you in.'_  

The basketball game, the pizza, the beer, the faded t-shirt and the message all connected together at once, and just as he realised he'd lived this before, there was a heavy knock on the front door, slow and foreboding, and he felt his stomach twist and tighten because he _knew_. He knew what that knock meant. He knew who'd be standing on the other side. 

If he just stayed on the sofa, if he didn't get up, he wouldn't have to face this. And yet he couldn't stop himself from pushing up, crossing to the front door, pulling it open. His mouth was dry and his heart thudded in his chest as his gaze travelled over the two sombre faces of the men standing on the doorstep, and the badges in their hands. _Don't say it_ , he wanted to tell them. _Don't tell me he's dead._  

"Is yo' fat'er home, Monsieur Remy? We need ta speak wit' him." He knew the men standing there. Or, more specifically, his father knew them. He was the NOPD's top prosecuting attorney, and his aunt was married to a cop. Everyone in the department was familiar with Jean-Luc and his two sons. Even though he tried to keep quiet, tried to stop the words from coming out of his mouth, he knew it was no use. 

"Non. What is it, officers? Has somet'in' happened?" _Please don't say it. Tell me you found him in time. Tell me he's at de hospital an' he's gon' be okay._  

"It's… it's 'bout Henri." _No. Please stop. Don't say it._ "I'm very sorry…" They continued speaking, but Remy didn't hear them. Didn't even _see_ them, because he saw over their shoulder two young, blond men standing in the driveway, watching him with hopeful eyes. Kyle and Greg. 

"Find him, Remy." It was Kyle who spoke, his voice raspy from the bruised throat. "Find him for us. For Jason." 

"Remy's tryin'." He called to them. "He's tryin' an' he'll find him, he promises. He won't get away." 

"You let Julien get away." The new voice turned his blood to ice, and a third young blond man joined Kyle and Greg, although there was no hope in those cool grey eyes – the same eyes as their father. "You let him walk away, Remy. He killed me an' you let him walk." 

"Non!" He stepped down onto the step, passing straight the cops who stood, frozen in place, forgotten. "Dat's not true! Remy couldn'-," 

"You promised, Remy. You promised you'd find him. You promised dat he wouldn't get away wit' dis." Henri turned his back on him, and began to walk away.

"Henri, _s'il vous plait-,_ " strong arms circled around him, held him back, prevented him from chasing after his brother. He could only watch as Henri walked away, disappearing into nothing. "Henri!" He called, desperately. " _Henri_!" 

He jerked awake, for a moment not entirely sure where he was. Oliver brushed against his shoulder and bent to rub his face against Remy's cheek, and he sighed, lifting a hand to give the cat a scratch behind the ears. He was in his New York apartment, surrounded by his cats. He sat up, slowly, disturbing Lucifer who had sprawled across his stomach, and glanced at the time. 

He'd only been asleep for about an hour. Still, that was an hour more than he'd been intending to get, so he supposed he should thank Pietro for that. At least he wouldn't be running on empty now, even if his sleep had been troubled by dreams. He was just glad the dream had stopped where it had – he didn't know if he could handle having to live through his father coming home to see the cops in the house, to watching Jean-Luc fall apart once they'd left because his _baby_ was dead. 

Remy threw back the sheets and shuffled into the bathroom to take a quick shower to freshen himself up. As he waited for the water to heat, he stared at his reflection in the mirror and winced. Yeah, he looked like hell. This case was definitely wearing on him. 

He'd often wondered, especially as a child when people still went out of their way to make unpleasant comments about his eyes, if he'd have had his father's eyes, too. If it weren't for the condition that made them this way, would they have been grey, like Henri's? Or would he have had his mother's eyes? Of the two of them, he'd looked more like their father. Same facial structure – same cheekbones, same jaw, even the same nose. He'd also been the most like him in personality, which is probably why he'd intended to go into law, and become a lawyer, too. 

But Henri had been the baby of the family, and precious to both of them. Remy still remembered the nights he spent curled around his little brother when he'd come crying to him in the night because he missed his mama, and the fights he'd got into at school because someone dared to push Henri around. He'd always protected Henri. 

Except when it had mattered the most. 

"Damnit." He murmured, turning away from the mirror, and his almost accusing reflection. He stepped into the shower and let the hot water distract him for several minutes, and tried to focus instead on the case. He needed to get back to the station, find out if any progress had been made, what Pietro was up to. When he stepped out again and shut off the water, his phone was ringing. "Shit." 

He hurried back into the bedroom, tying a towel around his hips as he did so, and bent to pick up the phone from the pocket of his jeans. He spared a glance at the ID, his lips quirking into a little smile when he saw it was Pietro – but then it was all business. 

"Oui?" 

_"Did I wake you?_ " 

"Non. Was in de shower." He told him. "What is it? What happened?" 

_"Nothing really. The sketch artist is working with Jason right now, so we might have a face to go by soon. Jubilee's been working like cases all day but so far she's come up with nothing that fits. Cortez got everything he could from the wits but there's not much else they can say to help us, so I stuck him on the job of going through security footage from last night._ " There was a pause, and Pietro's voice lowered a little. _"I didn't include the tape we're on. We're just walking through the door, but… I didn't want him to ask questions. I've already gone through that tape anyway, and there's nothing that stands out."_ Another pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was back to a regular level. _"Cortez really didn't like me giving him an order like that, but as soon as I mentioned your name he shut up. I kinda liked it._ " 

"Glad Remy can be o' service to you." He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Pietro's voice was soothing, almost to the same extent that his father's was. The dream was being pushed further into the back of his mind the longer he listened to him. "Keep dem goin'. Remy'll be dere in a few."

" _Did you sleep okay?"_ It was the hint of concern in Pietro's voice that had Remy's heart melting a little. 

"Can't complain." He didn't need to know about dreams of dead men. "Call Remy if anyt'in' comes up. See you in ten, Pietro." He waited for the detective to hang up, and then he sighed, tossing his phone onto the bed where the cats sat, watching him. "Yeah, yeah. Don't look at Remy like dat. He knows he got it bad." 

\-- 

By the time he got to the station, his head was back in the case and he'd pushed the dream to the back of his mind where he would, hopefully, forget all about it. Pietro jumped up from his desk the moment he stepped out of the elevator, phone in hand. 

"Rasputin is on the way in. She has a face for us to run through the system." He told him. Remy paused on his way to his office, and frowned. 

"Rasputin?" 

"Illyana. Younger sister of Officer Rasputin." Pietro explained. "She's young, but she's good. Jason remembered a lot about his attacker's face – she told me she didn't have to work him through too much. The probability is in the nineties that we're going to get an ID from the sketch, whether it's via our database or via bulletins on the news." 

"He'll be in the database. This guy's in the system, I know it." Remy nodded. "Okay, the moment she brings the sketch, you run that through. We gotta get this guy. Set up the conference room again, bring everyone in." 

Half an hour later, Pietro was staring at the murder board in the conference room as members of the team filed in behind him. Remy sat on the edge of the table, eyes closed, silent. He'd been silent since they'd set up the room, and Pietro hadn't dared to speak. His eyes snapped open when the door clicked shut, and then swung open sharply. 

"Lieutenant?" A young woman – Illyana, had to be – stepped forward, and handed over a file. "I have the sketch for you." Remy stood, took it from her. Flipped it open, and stared at the face of the man they were hunting. He noticed she'd taken the time to scan it and print a copy, so he took that and handed the file to Pietro. 

"Run it." He told him, and Pietro nodded, stepping aside to do just that. He took the sketch, and moved to stick it to the board. "Take a look, everyone. Dis is de man. Dis is de son of a bitch we want. Remember his face. We find him. We stop him." He turned to Pietro when he moved to the conference room computer, and activated the wallscreen. 

"Zachary Denver, twenty-six." The ID came up on screen as he spoke, along with the basic information, including his listed address. "He's in the system but the file is sealed." 

"Minor." Remy murmured. "Dey seal de files o' minors." He turned, clicked his fingers in the direction of one of the detectives. "Get dat file unsealed." He scanned the information quickly. "Remy wants four o' you to head down to his listed address. Be careful. He might not be dere but if he is, don't let him see you. Surveillance only." He paced back and forth, running things through in his head. "If he's not dere, he could be out huntin'." 

"Sir?" Jubilee perked up, and he gave her a nod to continue. She pulled up her handheld, tapped away at it in a hurry. "Sorry for interrupting, but the name sounded familiar. I was running like cases, as ordered, and I wasn't finding anything so I figured I'd take a shot and expand the parameters of the search. If this guy hadn't killed before, or attempted it, I wondered if maybe someone close to him had, or had been a victim. So I went back ten years, and…" she trailed off, tapped at the handheld some more. "Got it." She stood, moved to the computer, and split the wallscreen in two to show the data. 

"Nice work, Detective." Remy murmured as he studied the screen. 

"Annie Denver, married to Carl Denver. Two offspring, both male, Aaron and Zachary." Jubilee read out. "She was murdered when Zachary was seven – beaten, raped, strangled manually. The father was arrested for the murder and found guilty, and is still serving his sentence in prison. Deeper investigations found that both Annie and Zachary were subjected to regular abuse from the father, and both sons served as witnesses to the murder of their mother." 

"So dis comes down to his mot'er's murder." Remy sighed. "Well, dat explains how he kills dem. An', excuse Remy Ms Frost fo' steppin' in on yo' territory a lil' here, but – he's clearly killin' his fat'er, right?" He nodded to Jubilee. "Bring him up." She turned back to the computer, and pulled up the image of Carl Denver. 

"Blond." Pietro murmured. "Like the victims." 

"He's definitely seeing his father in his chosen victims." Emma agreed. "He's avenging his mother's murder by killing his father over and over. Given that Annie was killed by manual strangulation, he evidently attempted to copy that in his own murders, but was less able to do so. Judging from their photographs, Zachary is of a slighter build than his father, possibly takes more after his mother. It's possible that angers him, that he isn't as much of a man as his father. It could be why Gregory was beaten, whereas Kyle was not." 

"Wait." Remy frowned, stepped closer to the screen. "Jubilee, open up dis file righ' here." He tapped at the screen, waited whilst she opened it. "Says here dat de boys were taken into foster care after de arrest, an' kept toget'er after a professional opinion dat dey would benefit well from de connection." He scanned the information, frowned again. "Dere's a lot o' reports here dat Zachary was frequently covered in bruises, an' very accident prone." Now his eyes narrowed. "De abuse didn't stop wit' de fat'er. Bring up Aaron Denver's ID." 

"Yes, sir." Jubilee brought up the image, and Remy nodded. 

"Aaron Denver. T'irty years old. Blond like papa, an' big too. Got a long line of arrests here an'… wait, what's dis?" He moved closer, then tapped at the screen. "T'ink we got ourselves a trigger ladies an' gentlemen. Looks like big bro Denver here was stabbed to deat' a week ago. Drugs deal gone wrong." He turned back to the assembled men and women. "Dat's who he's killin' over an' over. It's not de dad. It's de brot'er, de one who stood an' watched as his mama was killed, who never got de abuse he did, an' who carried it on after he t'ought he was safe." 

"So he targets blond men around his brother's age, or who look it." Pietro murmured. Remy nodded, turning back to study Zachary's picture. He'd seen that face somewhere before, he knew it. But where? 

"We have to find him befo' he picks out his next-," he broke off when he remembered where he'd seen Zachary's face before – at the end of the bar, flirting eagerly with a certain blond bartender. "Clayton." 

"Clayton?" Pietro frowned. "What do you-," 

"Clayton, Pietro." Remy cut him off. "De goddamn bartender. Remy saw dis bastard flirtin' wit' him!" He pulled out his phone, found Clayton's number. Dialled. "He fits de profile. He's young, he's blond, an' he's already been scoutin' him out. Jubilee, call up de info'mation we have on Clayton Jones, owner an' manager o' X-Calibur." The phone went to voicemail, and Remy cursed. "No answer." 

"He could be busy. Or asleep. Or-," 

"He could be unconscious an' about to be killed." He turned, scanned the address listed for Clayton. "We need to leave, now." He made for the door, Pietro at his heels. 

"Remy, we can't just rush over there. We have to stop, and plan this out-," 

"We don't have _time_ , Pietro!" He snapped, heading straight for the elevator. "He could be dead befo' we get dere!" He slammed his finger onto the call button, and whirled around to face him. "Dere's no time fo' procedure here. Eit'er yo' wit' Remy, or yo' not." The doors pinged open, and he stepped into the elevator. "Which is it, Detective?" Pietro hesitated – he knew Remy was right, but he also knew rushing in like this could endanger not only themselves, but Clayton too. 

"We don't know if he's there. We should send people to X-Calibur-," 

"Den you do dat." Remy murmured, eyes cold. "An' Remy will go save someone's life." He hit the close door button, and left Pietro standing there as the doors slid shut. Pietro cursed under his breath, and glanced back to where cops were hurrying to their desks. He should stay, get them organised, alert the Captain. He met Jubilee's eyes, gave her a nod. 

And ran for the stairs. 

\-- 

"Decided to join Remy, eh?" Remy murmured as Pietro hurriedly slid into the passenger seat. 

"This is dangerous, and stupid." He sighed. "But I'm not letting you go in there alone." He held out his hand, and offered Remy a smile. "We're partners, remember?" Remy clasped his hand, and smiled back. 

"Partners." He started the engine, and gunned it, tearing out of the garage and towards the address he'd taken from Clayton's information. _Please let us get dere in time_. It was too long, far too long, before he came to a screeching halt outside the apartment block where Clayton lived. 

They rushed through the doors, and Remy made straight for the stairs despite the elevator being in use. Pietro followed behind as they ascended to the fourth floor, and when Remy came to a stop outside the right door, he gave him a nod. Slowly, carefully, Remy pulled his gun from his holster, and moved forward. He listened closely at the door – but he could hear nothing. 

"Fuck dis." He growled, stepping back. Before Pietro could protest, Remy directed a firm kick at the door, and rushed inside. "Police!" He called out as Pietro followed him through the door. "Clayton?" He heard a sound to the left, and he hurried through the apartment until he spotted a partially open door. With Pietro at his back, he kicked it open further, and held his gun level at the man standing at the foot of a bed. He was partially undressed, a belt in his hand, and a length of rope on the bed in front of him. Clayton lay sprawled on top of the sheets, unmoving. 

"You can't stop this." 

"Zachary Denver." Remy growled, stepping further into the room. "Can Remy call you Zack?" 

"Doesn't matter what you call me." Zachary murmured, tearing his eyes away from Clayton to glance over at him. "I know you." He grinned now. "How's Jason?" Remy started forward, but Pietro stepped up beside him and put a hand on his chest to stop him. Remy's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed. Pietro could practically feel the heat of his anger. But he held it back, just barely. 

"Yo' under arrest, on suspicion o' murder. You have de right to remain silent-," he broke off as Zachary twisted, and made to run for the open bedroom window. "Not dis time, you son of a bitch." Remy leapt forward, vaulting over the bed to slam Zachary against the wall. "If I could get away wit' killin' you right now, I'd do it in a heartbeat." He hissed beside his ear. "It's no more dan you deserve." When Pietro stepped up to cuff him and read him his rights, Remy turned to the bed and knelt upon it to check Clayton over. 

_Please don't be dead._  

He found a pulse easily enough, and let out a sigh of relief. He'd been undressed, but he couldn't see any injuries or evidence to suggest Zachary had got any further than that. He vaguely heard Pietro call for back-up and medical support, but his voice sounded far away. He brushed blond hair back out of Clayton's face, forcing himself to breathe slow, breathe easy. They got here in time. They stopped him. They saved Clayton. 

What drew his eyes to the floor beside the bed he didn't know, but they narrowed in on the phone that had been dropped, or tossed aside. It lay, screen-down, just inside the doorway. Carefully, he moved from the bed and bent, flipping it over even though he knew he should leave as much of the scene undisturbed as he could. The display lit up at his touch, revealing Clayton's contacts – and one number in particular was highlighted, as though he'd been interrupted before he could hit 'dial'. 

_'Lieutenant Handsome_ ' 

Clayton had tried to call him. Before he passed out, he'd tried to dial his number. He'd tried to call for his help. Letting the phone slide back onto the floor, Remy pushed up to his feet and staggered against the doorframe, hands shaking. He barely heard Pietro's concerned voice calling his name before he was bolting down the hallway into what he hoped was a bathroom. His knees hit the floor as the contents of his stomach emptied into the toilet, his limbs trembling. 

When Pietro stepped into the room ten minutes later, he was sat with his back against the wall, tissue clutched in one fist, and looking far too pale. Quietly, Pietro shut the door, and crouched down beside him. 

"Back-up's here. They've taken Denver already, and the medics are checking Clayton over before they move him to hospital. They want to keep an eye on him for the next few hours, at least until the drugs are out of his system." He spoke evenly, the tone and volume of his voice level. "Evidence is being collected as we speak, so we're all done here if you want to get out." When Remy didn't speak, he simply shrugged and sat himself down beside him, his back against the door. "Nice bathroom." He commented, staring around them at the cool blue walls. "Think he decorated in here himself?" 

"He tried to call me." Remy spoke at last, his voice a little raspy. "He knew he was in trouble, an' he tried to-," 

"We got here in time." Pietro reminded him, and when Remy's free hand curled into a fist he covered it with his own. "He's going to be fine. You knew, Remy. You knew he was in trouble, and you got here in time." 

"I know." He closed his eyes, let out a breath. "Dis time." He unclenched his fist, curled his fingers around Pietro's hand, and opened his eyes. "Dis has been… difficult." 

"No shit." Pietro smirked, and Remy actually grinned slightly. "Come on, sir. Let's get back to the station, maybe pick up some water and some breathmints or something on the way. I don't think you want to be questioning this asshole with vomit-breath." 

"Do you mind drivin'?" Remy asked as he pushed up from the floor. Pietro stood with him, and shrugged. 

"Not at all." He took the keys when Remy held them out, and then tensed with surprise when Remy pulled him into an unexpected hug. Normally he would have pushed away, shrugged him off, because he certainly wasn't one for this kind of intimacy – but this time he found himself smiling, and returning the embrace. When Remy nuzzled into his neck, he twisted his fingers into his untidy dark hair, his other hand lightly stroking up and down his back. "I've got you." He murmured softly. "I've got you now." 

\-- 

Convicting Zachary was an easy ride. With minimal pushing, he confessed to both murders, and to the attacks on Jason and Clayton – and, in fact, _boasted_ about them. When Remy stepped out of the interview room, his anger was back to burning hot, and he left Pietro to deal with the paperwork whilst he let it out down in the firing range. 

Too personal. Too close to home. It would happen from time to time, of course, with any case that bore any resemblance to something sensitive. But he could move past it now – the case would go to trial, and then Zachary would be locked up for the rest of his life, and he'd never have to think about it again. He could sleep without the worry of the ghosts of young blond men haunting him for not catching the man who killed them. 

He emptied his clip, each shot hitting the target exactly where intended, and then he stepped back, slipping the protective gear off as he turned – and smiled when he spotted the familiar white-haired detective leaning against the wall. 

"How long have you been dere?" He asked as he put the gun back where it belonged, along with the gear. 

"Not that long." Pietro shrugged one shoulder. "Feel better?" 

"Oui." Remy nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to take Pietro's hand. "A lil'." 

"This might help, then." Pietro pushed away from the wall, and gave him a smile. "Dr Madrox called to say Jason's doing very well, and they'll be happy to discharge him by the end of the week if he keeps up this recovery rate." When Remy smiled, he went on. "And Clayton's awake, and asking for you." 

"Is dat do?" Remy checked the time, calculated how long it would take for him to get over there. 

"Go. I'll finish up everything here." Pietro told him. Remy gave him another smile, this one warmer, and pulled a hand from his pocket to touch his fingers to Pietro's. 

"Merci, mon amour." He murmured softly, holding Pietro's gaze for a moment longer. When Remy stepped around him and moved towards the door, Pietro turned to watch him go, trying to ignore the shiver that had travelled the length of his spine at the murmured words. It was the French. It had to be. 

"Romantic languages." He muttered to himself, shaking his head. "That's all it is." But there was a part of him that knew it wasn't just the language, but the words in particular. 

_My love_. 

This thing between them, whatever it was, hadn't been around that long. Yes, there had been chemistry from day one, but he'd stubbornly ignored it for as long as possible. And they had a connection, there was no denying that, but it was almost entirely physical, wasn't it? They hadn't even really had an official date yet – at least, not one he counted. 

He told himself he was over-thinking a simple term of endearment, something said without much thought, and forced himself to focus on finishing up the rest of the paperwork so Remy wouldn't have to deal with it when he returned from the hospital. But they were definitely going to have to schedule a proper date at some point – he needed to know if this relationship went beyond the physical, although he wasn't entirely sure if he was ready for the answer. 

\-- 

Clayton was sat up in bed, flicking through the channels on the TV, when Remy arrived. His attention instantly shifted when he stepped into the room, and a smile spread across his face. Without waiting to be asked – without _needing_ to – Remy moved over to sit in the chair beside the bed. 

"You came." 

"When people in hospital ask fo' Remy, he doesn't like to refuse." Remy replied, quirking one eyebrow with a smile. Clayton laughed a little, but then shook his head. 

"No." The smile faded, just enough, for the tone of the conversation to shift into something more serious. "I mean-," 

"Oui." Remy cut him off gently, and nodded. "Remy knows what you mean." 

"I feel so stupid. I knew what was happening, and I still invited him in…" He shook his head again. "I guess you just never imagine it'll happen to you. I knew something was wrong when I started feeling dizzy, because I'd only had the one beer and I know the signs of being drugged. I made an excuse, needed the bathroom or something. I'd left my bedroom window open so I was gonna sneak out onto the fire escape and call for help, but…" he trailed off, drew in a shaky breath. "I started to black out before I could get through my bedroom door. Couldn't see my phone clearly enough to call, and then… the next thing I know, I'm waking up in here." He met Remy's eyes, and Remy saw the fear in them that would probably haunt him for months. "I tried to call you." Remy sat forward, and took Clayton's hand. 

"I was already on my way, Clayton." He told him, giving him a reassuring smile. "I was already rushin' over to be yo' knight in shinin' armour." When Clayton's lips twitched into a smile, he continued. "An' dere you were, my damsel in distress, waitin' fo' me to save de day." 

"And yet, you didn't give me that magic kiss to wake me." Clayton grinned now. "You did it all wrong." 

"Ah, well." Remy laughed a little. "As much as I'd like to be yo' Prince Charmin', Clayton-," 

"You've already been claimed." Clayton finished for him. "I know. And he's damn lucky, I hope he knows that. Still, a guy can dream." 

"Remy can give you better dan dat." He leant in, brushed his lips over Clayton's very softly, and then sat back again. "But don't tell de boyfriend. He gets jealous, an' whilst it's kinda adorable, it also means Remy won't hear de end o' it fo' weeks." 

"Just between us then." Clayton grinned, giving Remy's hand a squeeze. "Thank you, Remy. For… well, for everything, really." 

"Jus' doin' de job." Remy shrugged. "Jus' glad yo' alright." 

"I was lucky." Clayton squeezed his hand again, and let it go. "I had Lieutenant Handsome on the case." Remy laughed, and pushed to his feet. "Hey, next time I see you, it had better be a social call. I mean it this time." 

"It will be." Remy touched a hand to his shoulder, and then made for the door. "Remy promises. Maybe he'll even buy you a drink." Clayton pointed a finger at him, and flashed him a grin. 

"I'll hold you to that." When Remy stepped out of the room again, he was laughing, and the weight had lifted from his shoulders. Back to the station, then – back to Pietro, and back to work. 

Until the next case.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something wicked this way comes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm so sorry it's taken this long to get this chapter out, but the last few months have been really busy and stressful and I just haven't had the time to write. I'd had about 3/4s of the chapter written for a good month or so, but then I started my studies again so I've got that to work on, on top of everything else.
> 
> this brings me to the second thing: I know this fic started out with very regular updates, and I'm sorry to say it won't be going back to that any time soon. At least, I don't want to promise it will, because I'm still going to be pretty busy so I don't know how easily I'll be able to find the time for writing. however we are now reaching a good part of the plot so hopefully I should be greatly inspired to write as much of it as I can when I can.
> 
> and thirdly, you can all thank MagnusSon (aka Charlie) for this chapter and for this fic in general, because it's his enthusiasm and encouragement that keeps me writing. (Plus y'know he helped to build the plot).

"I never figured you for the cooking type." Pietro sat as comfortably as he could on Remy's sofa, the ginger cat – Lucifer – sprawled lazily in his lap, and smiled a little as Remy wandered over with a glass of wine in each hand. 

"Does it look like Remy's got servants 'round here?" The Cajun raised an eyebrow, handing a glass to Pietro as he took a seat beside him. Lucifer instantly shifted, stretching out so his paws were resting against Remy's thigh. With a grin, Remy scratched behind the cat's ears. 

"That's not what I meant." Pietro rolled his eyes. "I just… figured you for the type to shove something in the microwave and call it five-star." He shrugged. "Considering the job, too. Just didn't imagine you'd have the time for it." 

"Yeah, well, most days Remy don't." He sipped the wine, lifted it clear out of the way as Figaro jumped up onto the sofa and into his lap. "But he tries to. An' especially when he has company." 

"Oh? Making an effort for me?" Pietro couldn't help but grin, and when he leant in for a kiss he wondered at how this had become so natural for him. 

"Well, yo' still twitchy 'bout bein' seen in public before yo' dad knows, so figured it'd be easier to jus' have our dinner date behind closed doors." Remy draped his arm around Pietro's shoulders, kissed him again. "An' at least dis way if we want a lil' extra fo' dessert, we can jus' get right to it." 

"Of course." Pietro pulled away, rolled his eyes again. "Figured you'd be thinking about sex. Again." 

"Well can you blame a man?" Remy pulled back his arm, and instead dropped his hand onto Pietro's thigh – avoiding the cat. "When it seems to be our favourite activity as a couple?" 

"Shut up." Pietro caught himself before he jabbed his elbow into Remy's ribs. He told himself it was just because wine might be spilled, and he _liked_ this shirt. "Well. It was good. The food, I mean." 

"Oh, a compliment." Remy gave his thigh a slight squeeze. "Yo' spoilin' Remy tonight." 

"Yeah, well. Figured you need it." The case had really gotten under his skin, had really troubled him. He definitely didn't want to Remy in that state again, though he had a feeling it was bound to happen. There were always cases that hit hard. He sighed, moved to set his glass down on the coffee table. Lucifer complained at the movement, and so he gave the cat a quick scratch under the chin in apology. "I'm going to tell him soon." 

"What?" Remy blinked, quickly ran over the last couple of minutes of conversation. 

"My father. I'm going to tell him. About me." He paused, chewed nervously on his bottom lip. "About us. I don't know when, exactly, because I'm going to need to think really hard about what I'm going to say, what would be the best approach to the subject, but… I'm going to do it. Soon. Maybe." 

"If he loves you at all, Pietro, he won't care." Remy moved his hand from Pietro's thigh to the back of his neck, fingertips stroking over his skin lightly. "It'll probably be difficult for him to get his head around at first, an' he might not understand right away, but… yo' his son. He'll realise dat it don't matter eventually." 

"You don't know him, Remy. He's always been hard on me." He shook his head, sighed again. "He expects me to get married again, and do it right this time." 

"An' who says you won't?" Remy asked lightly, but Pietro just shook his head once more. 

"To a _woman_. He expects me to get a wife, and either have more children or make more of an effort to keep Luna around more often. I messed up enough with my first marriage that I can't mess up even the slightest with another relationship. It's why I never even really tried before. Just stuck to one-night hook-ups and casual flings. Nothing was ever serious, because if it became serious then one day I'd have to approach my father about it, and – man _or_ woman – it would never be enough." He dragged his fingers through his hair, stared down at the cat in his lap. "I can't make him proud of me." 

"Bullshit." Remy sighed, also moving to set his glass down on the coffee table. "If he can't be proud dat his son is in a successful job an' a good relationship, den he's doin' dis parentin' thing wrong." He shook his head, picked up Figaro from his lap and set the cat aside. "Was my papa disappointed when I told him I didn't want to be a lawyer, but a cop instead? Maybe a lil'. But de firs' day I put on de uniform an' went out onto de streets, he was tellin' all his co-workers how proud he was, showin' dem de picture he took an' showin' off his boy – cause dat's what parents are s'posed to do. Dey're supposed to be proud o' deir kid for doin' somethin' dey love." 

"It's not just the job." Pietro gently nudged Lucifer from his lap, and turned to face Remy a little more. "Crystal-," 

"You got married too young, or you rushed into t'ings 'cause you t'ought dat it was de right t'ing to do. But you could o' turned yo' back on her. Could o' left her to raise de kid alone, be a single mot'er. You didn't. You took responsibility. Ain't your fault dat de marriage fell apart." 

"It is." He argued. "And that's not even the point. Now that I've screwed up once, I have to fight to prove I won't do it again. You can't understand that, Remy." 

"Can't I?" He stood, left the room. Pietro frowned as he watched him go, and was just debating over following him or not when he returned. He dropped a photograph onto the coffee table, and Pietro leant forward to pick it up. It was Remy in the photo, a smile on his face and his arm around a pretty brunette with a streak of white hair swept back from her face. "Her name's Anna. I was wit' her for nearly four years. Planned t' marry her an' everyt'in'. Obviously, dat didn't work out, since I've never been married an' haven't seen her since." 

"What happened?" Pietro set the photograph down again, and Remy's eyes were drawn to it for a moment before he tore them away. 

"T'ings got messed up. It was a messy break-up, an' it fucked wit' my head. So don't tell me I can't understand, 'cause I've been dere. Might not have gone all de way to marriage like you did, but it was still a relationship fo' life, or so I t'ought. Had a place toget'er, she even joked wit' her friends about dem callin' her Anna LeBeau. Papa loved her, treated her like a daughter. So I know 'bout messing up, Pietro. An' was Papa disappointed when we split? Probably. But he didn't hold it over my head. He helped me pick up de shreds of my life an' told me dat sometimes bad t'ings happen, an' clearly we weren't meant to last anyway." He dropped back down onto the sofa, and sighed. "Yo' fat'er has no excuse, Pietro. Even if he only wants de best for you, if he makes you so unsure o' doin' anyt'in', den somet'in' ain't right." 

"It's not that. I guess… he just finds it difficult to express himself sometimes. He wants all of us to do well, he wants us to be happy, so he pushes and pushes for that and doesn't quite realise that it's not having the best effect on us. Or, on me, at least. I know he's only hard on me like this because I'm the only one not leading a perfect life. Wanda has her fantastic job, her husband who she loves, her two great kids. She's happy, she's set. And Lorna… she's living the high life. She's successful, and she's loving every second. Me? I'm married to the job because it's all I have. I live and breathe homicide and paperwork and that's it. So he pushes." 

"All you have, huh?" Remy murmured, and Pietro sighed. 

"You're the first relationship I've had since Crystal." He admitted, and reached out to take Remy's hand. He usually wasn't one for displays of affection – or, at least, he didn't initiate them – but this time, he made the effort. "And by that I mean the first person I've slept with that I haven't immediately shut out of my life as soon as I was out the door." He smiled a little. "The first person I haven't _wanted_ to shut out immediately. It's why I tried to stay away from you, why I tried to run. It's why I tried to brush it off as harmless sexual attraction and nothing more, because if I let myself feel more then… then I'd end up messing things up again." 

"So far yo' doin' alright." Remy smiled back at him, gave his hand a slight squeeze. 

"We haven't been together all that long. Just wait." He tried a laugh, but it was shaky. "I really was the reason Crystal and I fell apart. Well, no… okay maybe that's not entirely accurate, because she could have tried harder in some areas, but ultimately I was the cause for the split. I'm difficult to be with, and I'm a lot of work. As it turned out, she wasn't willing the make the effort, and maybe she was right to feel like that." 

"If she didn't try at all, den she wasn't right." Remy shook his head. "Relationships require effort from all involved parties. It's not some one-way t'ing where someone makes all de effort an' de other jus' sits back an' doesn't give anyt'in' back. If she felt dat she couldn't handle t'ings, den she should have at least made an effort to work it out wit' you." He paused, quirked an eyebrow. "Did she?" 

"We… we spoke, sometimes. Well I suppose argued would be a better term for it. But I guess we didn't really talk it out, try to work something out between us. It was just… fighting. It really affected Luna, too, which I guess is why we agreed that it would be better to just get a divorce and go our separate ways. Divorced parents are better than a household where it's rare to have a conversation that isn't shouted over the dinner table." 

"Den stop blamin' yo'self for t'ings fallin' apart." He gave Pietro's hand a squeeze. "An' for de record, Remy ain't de type to jus' let t'ings fall apart. He's a fighter. You try an' walk away from me wit'out a fight, Pietro, an' I'll be right on your heels de whole time." 

"Good to know." He laughed a little, and pulled him in for a kiss. "But you can, you know. If it's too much. You can walk away." 

"Nice try." He grinned, nudging Pietro down onto his back. "But you ain't gettin' away from me dat easily, Detective." He fitted their bodies together, nipped lightly at Pietro's bottom lip. Long fingers threaded through his hair, holding him in place as warm lips covered his own, and Remy gave a soft, quiet moan into the kiss. Oh, yes. He wasn't going to be giving this up without a fight. 

\-- 

"Lieutenant." It was rare for the Commander to come down to Homicide – if she needed to speak with someone, she would send for them. So her presence in the bullpen had cops scrambling to throw empty coffee cups and candy wrappers in the trash, and the sharp call had eyes all turning to where Remy sat, perched on the corner of Pietro's desk. Ororo strode past the desks, heading straight for the Lieutenant's office. "With me." She disappeared through the open door without looking back. 

"What did you do?" Pietro murmured, but Remy ignored him. He stood, dragged his fingers through his hair, and followed her into his office. 

"Please close the door, Lieutenant." She waited until Remy had shut the door, and then she circled around the desk and took a seat in his chair. "That was a difficult case." 

"Oui." Remy gave a nod, sticking his hands into his pockets, not quite knowing what to do with them. It wasn't obvious from her tone why she was here, and talking about it, and that unsettled him. "We didn't have much to go on at de beginnin', but we-," 

"Remy." She gave him a single, knowing look, and he sighed. "That was a difficult case." 

"It was." He nodded, now understanding why she was here. "But Remy's fine, ma'am." 

"I won't insult either of us by pretending I don't know the situation of your transfer to New York, especially considering I played a part in bringing you here. I also won't insult you by implying you don't have a handle on your own emotions, and given that there were no complaints or concerns raised throughout the duration of the case, I'm not here to discuss that." She crossed one leg over the other, folded her hands over her knee. 

"Den why are you here, Commander?" 

"I received a phone call this morning, from New Orleans." She watched his shoulders tense, his jaw clench tightly. "From your father." She watched him struggle with his emotions, fought to keep them from showing on his face. "Before you get angry with him, he was only calling me because we've communicated a number of times, and he was concerned about you." 

"Well, you can call him back up an' tell him dat de _Lieutenant_ is fine." He snapped, and then pulled his anger back. "Ma'am." 

"It's okay, Remy." Her tone shifted, became softer. "It's okay to have a case shake you up. It happens to all of us, especially when it hits so close to home. I just want you to know that if you need to talk to someone, Ms Frost is available to-," 

"He wanted you to tell Remy to see a shrink." 

"No. He did not." She shook her head. "He called to get my opinion on how you were handling things, because he was worried about you. I promised I would speak to you myself to make sure you were okay. He didn't ask me to suggest the police therapist. He didn't even mention it." 

"Don't need a shrink." He turned away from her, sighed. "Had enough o' shrinks. Had enough o' talkin' to people 'bout how I'm _coping_." 

"You pulled your weapon on an unarmed and restrained suspect." 

"But I didn't fire it." He turned back, and she saw the brief flash of anger in his eyes before he got control of it. "I know it was a mistake. I know I stepped over de line, an' I did everyt'in' dat was required to make up fo' it. I did my time wit' de doctors, I let 'em poke around in my head as much as dey felt dey needed to. I went t'rough de trainin' again, an' again. I got signed off, got my gun back, an' I transferred out so t'ings would be _easier_ fo' everyone." 

"Remy-," 

"So wit' all due respect, ma'am, I don't need to talk to a shrink." He sighed, pulled a hand from his pocket to run it through his hair. "I let myself get too involved in a case. It got personal, an' it won't happen again. But I do not need to talk to a shrink." She watched him for a moment, and then nodded. 

"I know." She smiled when he glanced at her in surprise. "I just wanted to see it for myself. A lot of people, especially those higher up, are concerned about your presence in the department. They're worried about how stable you are, if you're a danger to the department. They're all idiots, of course, but don't tell them I said that. But you're not unstable. You have a quick temper, and you're not afraid to push that line we all walk, but you have a clear head." She stood, circled around the desk to put a hand on his shoulder. "I just wanted to be able to call up your father and tell him he has nothing to worry about. That his son is doing just fine." A smile touched Remy's lips. 

"Sorry, Commander, fo'… snappin'. Remy guess he jus' got sick o' people assumin' he's gonna lose it an' open fire on everyone if dey say de wrong thing." He shook his head a little. "An' Remy knows his papa worries. He don't like bein' so far away from him, dat's all." 

"No need for apologies, Remy. Although try not to make a habit of it, otherwise I might have to have serious words with you." She smiled to show her words shouldn't be taken too heavily – she knew he wasn't the type to disrespect authority quite in that way. He'd push it, test his limits, but he knew where the line was. "If I hadn't known him previously, I doubt he would have called me. But he trusts my opinion, and he almost certainly didn't want to upset you." 

"Oui, Remy knows." He dragged his fingers through his hair, and sighed. "T'ank you, ma'am. Fo' believin' in Remy. For not t'inkin' he's crazy like jus' 'bout everyone else does." 

"I lost someone I loved once, too. I know what the grief can do to a person." She crossed back to the door, hesitated. "You can talk to me if you need to. I'm not a shrink, and I won't take notes and ask _how does that make you feel_ , and if you come to me as a friend I won't be your boss, either. I can be someone you can turn to when things get rough." 

"Merci, ma'am." He gave a nod, and glanced out of his window to the head of white hair he could just about see. "Remy will remember dat." She followed his gaze, and gave a subtle smile. 

"But perhaps you already have someone you can talk to." When his gaze met hers, she gave him a knowing look. "Am I right?" Remy hesitated for a moment, and then he smiled. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

\-- 

"What did the Commander want?" Pietro leant against the frame of the door, arms crossed casually over his chest. He'd waited several minutes after he'd watched the Commander get into the elevator, telling himself to finish up some paperwork before he risked checking if Remy's door was open, or closed. After seeing it was open, he'd quickly made his way over before anyone else could intercept. 

"Jus' to talk 'bout de case a lil'." Remy shrugged, beckoning Pietro inside. "An' how Remy felt." Pietro didn't need to ask why that would be important, not when he knew the significance of the case with regards to Remy's history. "Not'in' to worry 'bout." 

"I've been writing up my reports from the arrest." Pietro swiftly changed subject, thinking work was the best way to put his Lieutenant back on track. "Is there anything else you need me to do, paperwork wise?" 

"You know you don't have to do all de paperwork, right? We're partners, Pietro. Partners share de load. You ain't here to write up Remy's reports fo' him." Remy quirked a brow, but Pietro merely shrugged. 

"I'm good at writing up reports and notes. Have you seen how fast I can type?" He dropped into Remy's visitor chair, fiddled with a loose thread on the sleeve of his suit jacket. Damn, he'd have to fix that when he got home. "Besides, it gives me something to do, and I tend to get bored fairly quickly when I have nothing to do." 

"Well, den. S'pose you could write up some stuff fo' Remy." He opened up one of the drawers on his desk, rummaged through it for a moment before he produced the file he had for the case. Although he often left the case file with Pietro, he always kept a copy of it himself. He stood as he flipped it open, made sure the reports he'd made were actually in there and not scattered somewhere on his desk. "If yo' really dat bored, you can type up Remy's reports." 

"Hand them over, and they'll be done within the hour. Probably less, but I'm allowing for distractions like frustrating New Orleans cops who don't know the meaning of sexual harassment in the work place." Pietro lifted a brow as he smirked, holding out his hand for the file. Remy bit back the laugh, but he didn't stop the grin from crossing his face. 

"Is dat so?" He didn't hand over the file, simply beckoned for Pietro to stand – which he did. "Well, den. Maybe you should educate dis Nawlins cop, non?" Pietro rolled his eyes, reaching for the file. 

"Just let m write up my reports, _sir_." Remy shook his head, twisting his arm around to hold the file behind his back. 

"Non. Tell Remy more 'bout dis apparent 'sexual harassment', eh?" He was still grinning, and Pietro wanted nothing more than to smack it off his face. Or kiss it off. Damnit. 

"I'll get you a handbook." He reached for the file again, but Remy only switched it to the other hand, yet again holding it out of reach. "Remy, be mature. I can't write up reports if you don't give me the file." 

"Maybe you should make it worth Remy's while, eh?" Now the grin had turned sly, and Pietro inwardly groaned. He knew where this was going. Oh, boy did he know where this was going. 

"Before you get any ideas, I'm not climbing under your desk to give you any sexual gratification." His eyes narrowed into a slight glare, but Remy's grin didn't falter even in the slightest. "And I'm certainly not going for a quickie in the elevator, or in your car. So stop thinking along those lines and just give me the damn file." 

"Maybe you should keep dat handbook fo' yo'self, Detective." Remy raised his eyebrows, laughing a little. "Remy wasn't t'inkin' any o' dose t'ings you said, actually. You got a filt'y lil' mind dere, Pietro." 

"Coming from the guy who thinks about sex every five seconds." Pietro shot back dryly. 

"Every seven, actually." Remy cut in with a smirk. Pietro merely glared at him. 

"Give me the file." 

"How 'bout you give Remy a kiss first?" He lifted his free hand, tapped a finger to his lips. Pietro sent a quick glance over his shoulder to the open door, and hoped no one had heard that. Well, even if they had, he could easily pass it off as Remy's characteristic flirting, and no one would even blink twice. 

"The file, Remy. I'm not kissing you." He reached for it again, only to have Remy hold it higher in the air. At this point, Pietro cursed the bastard for being just _that little bit_ taller than he was. With the way Remy was holding it, the file was just out of his reach, so he couldn't even take it off him. Not without playing dirty – and he didn't particularly want to be caught with his hand down his Lieutenant's pants. 

"Yo' not gettin' it until you kiss Remy." Damn this Cajun, and damn that stupid grin of his. Pietro pressed a little closer to him, bracing one hand on the edge of the desk as he stretched up, trying to reach the file, but it was no use. 

"I am not kissing you in your office where everyone can see." He hissed, keeping his voice low so he couldn't be overheard. "Do you want me to write up these reports or not? Because if you don't give me the file in the next ten seconds I'm leaving you to do them yourself."

"But you know dey probably won't get done. Not fo' days. _Days_ , Pietro." Remy quirked a brow, knowing that would get under Pietro's skin. "T'ink 'bout it. Dose reports will sit dere, untouched, only a few feet away from you. Jus' waitin' fo' someone to pick dem up an' start typin'…" 

"Goddamnit, you're an ass. You know that?" Pietro sighed, impatient and frustrated. He knew just where to poke and prod to really wind him up. He knew he hated it when files weren't completed as soon as possible. He _knew_ it would drive him mad knowing there were unfinished reports sitting around abandoned. 

"You know what you gotta do if you want de file, Detective." Remy's other hand had settled on Pietro's hip. He'd wanted to loop his arm around the detective's waist, but this way he could easily step back if someone walked by, and shifting his hand from his hip would be much more subtle than having to remove his arm from around him. 

"People can see us." Pietro sent another glance to the door, but everything was clear from what he could see. Didn't mean it would stay that way, of course. 

"No one is lookin'." Remy murmured, shifting very slightly so they were pressed more tightly together. "An' isn't it a lil' excitin'? The risk? Non?" 

"Maybe for you." Although, he had to admit, there was a certain thrill about it – and he hated that he felt that way. Before Remy, he never would have. The Lieutenant was having a very bad effect on him, bringing out his daring side, the side of himself he'd long ago locked away so it wouldn't interfere with his career, his life. 

"Jus' a quick one." They were close enough for it already – all it would take would be for Pietro to lean in just a little, and their lips would touch. He could feel a flush creeping up from under his collar, there was a fluttering in his chest and, damnit, the intimacy between them was having… _other_ effects. And god, did he always have to smell so _good_? 

"I hate you." He murmured, and then he leant in and brought their lips together. He'd intended for it to be a brief kiss, just a quick one as Remy had said, but the damn Cajun was like a drug, and he couldn't get enough. His lips pressed harder against Remy's, and the hand that had been reaching for the file dropped to grip his arm, his other shifting from the desk to Remy's waist. 

His lips parted as Remy deepened the kiss, and the hand on Remy's arm slid up to cup the back of his neck. He knew he should stop, he should break the kiss and step back before someone came in or saw them through the window – but he couldn't bring himself to. God, what had happened to him? When Remy had first sauntered into Homicide he would never have even dreamed of kissing someone at work, and certainly not his _boss_ , and yet here he was, all but ready to pounce the bastard. He was a hopeless case now, too far gone to bring back. Maybe sneaking away for half an hour wasn't such a bad idea, now that he thought about it. They had nothing much on today, not unless something new came in that needed their attention. They could just slip out with the excuse of taking a break, and— 

"Ahem." Pietro's blood turned to ice, and cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach at the sound of someone clearing their throat. He froze in place, for the moment not daring to move or even glance toward the doorway. _Please, for the love of everything, please be Logan_. "Am I interrupting something?" He broke away from Remy, swallowed thickly, and tried not to panic. Because he knew that voice. How could he not? He heard it every morning, every evening. Had heard it daily from the day he was _born_. He pushed away from Remy, ran a hand through his hair, and finally turned to face the door. 

The Chief stood in Remy's open doorway, his eyes fixed on Pietro – and the detective knew that look very, very well. He felt himself shrink beneath it, and he had to look away, turning his gaze to the floor. Erik's eyes then shifted to Remy, who to his surprise didn't wither like Pietro had. No, instead Remy merely straightened up, and met his eyes defiantly. 

"Pietro. My office, now." He barked the command, and Pietro hurried to the door, slipping past his father before Remy could make any move to stop him. Erik didn't shift his glare from Remy even for a second. "You and I will be having words, Lieutenant, after I am finished with my son." 

"Remy will look fo'ward to it." Remy shot back, his tone as icy as Erik's had been. " _Sir_." He added after a second, and felt a smug stab of pride when he spotted the flash of anger in Erik's face before he caught it. The Chief turned on his heel and strode off after Pietro, and Remy crossed to the door to watch him leave. 

He hadn't missed how the colour had entirely drained from Pietro's face, leaving him looking almost as white as his hair, and he'd seen the fear and the panic in his eyes. No son should be reduced to that by their _father_. It didn't sit well with him at all. He didn't care if it got him fired – if Erik raised a hand to him over this, he'd break the bastard's face. 

"What the hell did you do?" He turned, glanced over at Logan, who had emerged from his office. "Saw Pietro high-tailin' it outta here, and Erik following him looking mighty pissed." Remy didn't speak for a moment, and then he sighed. 

"He caught us." 

"For your sake I hope you were wearing pants." Logan muttered, glancing over as the elevator doors shut behind Erik. Despite the situation, the corner of Remy's mouth twitched up into a faint smile. "This isn't going to be pretty." Logan paused, sighed. "He's gonna need you when Erik finally lets him go. He'll be angry, he'll be blaming himself, and he might try to push you away. If you care about him at all, you won't let him." 

"Do I look like the kinda guy who can be pushed away, Captain?" Remy lifted a brow, and Logan actually laughed. 

"Couldn't even get rid of ya with a damn exorcism." He agreed. "Be here when he gets back. I've got a call to make." Remy gave him a nod, and Logan disappeared back into his office. He'd be here. Of course he'd be here. 

And if Pietro was wearing even a _single_ mark, there would be _hell_.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Erik's confrontation with Pietro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /blows away inches of dust  
> Well... it's been a while. I could give a list of reasons and excuses for why this hasn't been updated in... well, a very long time, but instead I'm just going to apologise, and move on.
> 
> I'm now a few days late, but I initially started finishing this chapter (which has sat partially done on my computer for god knows how long) for Charlie's birthday, since they have such a great love for this fic and they're also a big part of the reason it even exists. So happy (belated) birthday Charlie, and I hope this was worth the wait~
> 
> I can't, and therefore won't, promise any kind of regular updates for this. I have a lot going on that demands my attention, and I have to be in the right mood to write fic lately, so updates will be all over the place. I'll try not to keep you all waiting so long for the next one, though...  
> But just let me reassure you that I have not abandoned this, nor will I. There is still so much to this story that I have yet to write~

Remy paced back and forth in his office, his phone clutched in one hand. He'd contemplated calling home, despite knowing his father would be at work and incredibly busy. Hell, he'd call the house number just to hear his father's voice on the answering machine. He was worried about what was going on in Erik's office – what the Chief might be saying, or doing, to Pietro. 

It had been over an hour since they'd departed to have their talk, and it was making him nervous. This hadn't been how they wanted to break the news to him, and it had come at just the wrong time. With a sigh, Remy dropped down into his chair, tossing his phone onto his desk. Pacing wasn't going to make time go faster, and Pietro would return to him only when he could. He was fairly certain Erik wouldn't murder him in a fit of rage. At least, he hoped not. 

Jubilee stepped up to his door, a file held in one hand, but she stopped short when she saw him. She had watched Pietro and Erik disappear into the elevator, and knew from the look on their faces that the conversation they were about to have probably wasn't going to be pleasant, and so she had avoided her Lieutenant for as long as she dared. Looking at him now, she realised that had been a wise decision. He looked about ready to put his fist through the wall. 

"Sir? Is everything alright?" He looked up at her, and gave her a weak smile. That was a good sign, at least. 

"Remy's not sure at de moment, Detective." He admitted with a sigh. "Did you need somet'in'?" 

"Just got a case that needs signing off." She walked over, handed him the file. He flipped it open, scanned the information on the first page, and then signed it off for her. "He'll probably head into the break room." She told him when he handed it back. "After he's done with his father, I mean. He'll want to hide away from public eye for a few minutes, until he can compose himself." At his questioning look, she shrugged. "I've witnessed one or two of their disagreements." 

"T'anks, Jubilee." As if on cue, the elevator pinged to signal the doors were opening, and Pietro stepped out into the bullpen. Remy rose to his feet immediately, watching through his office window as Pietro did indeed turn off into the breakroom, the door closing quickly behind him. "If Remy don't come back in half an hour, send in back-up." He joked lightly, stepping past her to exit his office. Jubilee let him go, watching him ease around desks to reach the break room. 

Pietro was sat on the floor when he opened the door, head in his hands. One of the cabinets against the wall was wonky, as if someone had shoved it with some force, and a dishcloth had fallen sadly to the floor. Remy said nothing, quietly closing the door behind him, and then he moved to sit beside him. He made no move to touch him, but he sat close enough for his shoulder to just brush Pietro's, to let him know he was right there. He knew Pietro well enough by now to know that pushing him would only close him off further. He needed to come to him, to choose his own moment to speak up. 

He studied the room in their silence – noticing now that there was a slight dent in the side of the cabinet, and his eyes immediately shifted to Pietro's hands. Sure enough, the knuckles of one hand looked a little sore, the skin pinking up already. Wordlessly, he took Pietro's hand in his own, and gently inspected it for further damage. He hadn't hit the cabinet hard enough to fracture any bones, and from what he could see the skin hadn't split, either. 

Pietro said nothing, but he didn't pull away. That was something, at least. Remy kept up the pretence of inspecting his hand, just to keep that contact between them – he knew Pietro would be wise to his plan, and when fingers curled ever so gently around his, he knew Pietro was ready to speak. 

"It went about as well as I expected." The Detective said at last, voice weary. His head tipped back to rest against the wall, his other hand falling uselessly to his side. He drew in a slow, deep breath, as though preparing to reveal something he did not want to voice aloud. "He called you a distraction." He paused, scoffed. "Amongst other things." 

"A distraction?" Remy bit back the words he wanted to follow that up with. That would be for another time, when the fight wasn't so fresh. He didn't want to further upset or anger Pietro by dragging his father through the dirt, no matter how much he felt it was deserved. Family was something he didn't dare make idle comments on, regardless of the situation. 

"A distraction from my career." Pietro went on. "And he said that if I want to make it to the top then I have to stop letting distractions get in the way. As usual, making my feel inadequate in my job." He wet his lips, and closed his eyes. "And then he said if need be, this distraction could be transferred out quite easily." Remy's free hand clenched into a fist at his words, and he paused to gather his cool before he dared to speak. 

"He t'reatened to have Remy removed?" He paused again, and then he laughed – short, and not entirely from the heart, but a laugh nonetheless. "Jus' remember, Pietro. Remy's Papa is one o' de best lawyers in de country. He tries to fire Remy wit'out good reason, an' he'll be facin' de Patriarch." The corner of Pietro's mouth twitched up into the briefest, faintest of smiles, and Remy considered that a win. 

"He made me feel like a kid again." He said after another moment of silence. "The kid who got into too many fights at school, who constantly got given those disappointed looks whilst my sisters only ever got praise." He shook his head, and sighed heavily. "I work harder for my father's approval than either of them, but all he ever sees when he looks at me is disappointment, and I just don't know why. I'm doing well at my job – I have one of the best success rates in the city, let alone this precinct. I always get giving glowing reviews from Logan when it comes to professional development tracking, and not just because he's my father's best friend. I got picked out from my whole team to be my Lieutenant's permanent partner because I'm _good_ at what I do – but all he's going to see is what he walked in on, and it won't mean _anything_ that I'm the best Detective in the station." 

"Den he's blind, an' foolish." Remy shrugged. "An' you don' need his approval to know yo' good at what you do. You jus' said as much." When Pietro turned to glance at him, he lifted his free hand. "You want it, Remy knows dat. But you don' _need_ it, an' if he's too stubborn to accept dat you ain't _him_ , den dat's his problem." 

"I just wish he could accept and be glad that I'm _happy_." Pietro ignored the weight of those words as he said them, knowing if he stopped now, he might not start up again. "I've learnt how to smile while doing the job, something I hadn't quite mastered before you turned up. I don't get bogged down by cases that hit a bit too close to home, like I used to. I'm not haunted by what I see at crime scenes, because I know my partner and I will do everything and anything to catch the person responsible. I've seen the joy we can bring, the lives we can touch, by doing our job to the very best of our potential, and it's all down to you." He met Remy's eyes, and tried for a smile – it was weak, but it was true. "My father taught me how to do the job, but you taught me to love it, to be proud." 

"Pietro…" Remy held Pietro's hand tightly in his own, and then made a deliberate show of bringing it to his lips. What he really wanted to do was pull him close and kiss him properly, but he knew that wouldn't be a wise move so soon after their earlier incident. That could wait until later, when they were alone. "Remy ain't goin' anywhere, hope you know dat. Yo' fat'er can try what he likes to get rid o' him, but not'in' will push him away." 

"He'll be difficult." Pietro sighed again, but he already felt lighter just from having Remy so close. It was incredible, when he thought about it, how much _better_ he was with Remy in his life. Considering how he'd felt towards him initially, it was almost enough to make him laugh. "He already didn't like you very much, or at least he didn't know what to make of you – which for my father equates to much the same thing." 

"Remy don' need him to like him." When Pietro raised an eyebrow, he merely grinned. "Well from what you say, he's never goin' to accept our relationship, so Remy don' need to win him over." 

"I can't imagine you winning him over even if you tried, if I'm honest." There was a ghost of a smile on Pietro's face now, and Remy counted that as another win. "My father is… well, I don't think any word I can think of to describe him would quite do him justice. But he'll probably try to make things difficult for you, probably in the hope that you'll pack your things and go." 

"Den he will find dat Remy is every bit as stubborn as he is handsome." That, finally, got a laugh from the white-haired detective. "De more he tries to get rid o' Remy, de more Remy will want to stick around jus' to spite him." 

"I dread to think what you'll do." Pietro leant against him more heavily, drawing comfort from the heat he could feel through his shirt. "Thank you." He murmured, turning to press his face into Remy's neck. With a fond smile, Remy draped his arm around Pietro's shoulders and drew him closer. "For knowing what I needed." 

"I'd like to t'ink dat's my job, non?" Remy murmured back, pressing a kiss to Pietro's hair. The softer tone, the gesture of affection, and the oh-so-rare use of first person sent a flutter to Pietro's heart, and he knew in that moment he was well and truly a lost cause. 

"If you two are done," they both looked up sharply to see Logan standing in the doorway of the breakroom. Neither of them had heard the door open, which was a clear sign of how wrapped up in their conversation they'd been. Logan smiled a little as Pietro straightened up, but didn't shrug Remy's arm from around his shoulders. "You missed your lunch plans, kid." 

"Lunch plans?" Pietro frowned, trying to remember if he'd even _had_ any. Before he could question his Captain further, a familiar face appeared in the doorway beside him – and then another came into view over Logan's shoulder. Remy watched as Pietro's face physically lit up at the sight of them, and it didn't take a genius to work out who they were.

The brunette rushed forward to crouch beside Pietro, a smile on her face that only faded a little when she looked into his eyes. The pair said nothing, but they seemed to be having a conversation that went unheard by everyone else. Although the hair colour was different, as were the eyes, they had enough similarity in the face for it to be unmistaken – plus, the silent conversation was clue enough. This was Wanda, Pietro's twin sister.

Remy gave them their privacy and stood, slipping his hands into his pockets as he turned to regard the other new face who lingered in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest as she rather obviously sized him up. His first brief glance of her hadn't been enough – or perhaps he had been too distracted with Pietro – but now there was no mistaking her. Not with the head of shockingly green hair, and the face made for photographs. 

"So is this what New York's finest calls hard work? Sitting around on your asses?" Lorna smirked, shifting to settle a hand on her hip. Remy, probably for the first time, was rendered speechless. Pietro rose, Wanda's hand on his shoulder, and turned to his half-sister with a smile. 

"As if you'd know what hard work is." He rolled his eyes, but accepted the hug Lorna forced upon him. He already felt ten times better with the company of his sisters, and he knew it had been Logan who had called and told them what had happened. 

"Hey, I work hard." Lorna jabbed at his shoulder. "Now are we going to stand around all day, or are you going to take us to lunch, hm? Wanda and I are dying to get to know this boyfriend of yours." And to make a point, she sent a pointed glance in Remy's direction. 

"Logan told us everything." Wanda grinned, paying attention to the Cajun now that she knew her brother was on the mend from his run-in with their father. She had expected him to be more of a mess than he had been, but she had a feeling it was down to the handsome Lieutenant that he was holding himself together. Plus, she had seen in Pietro's eyes that there was something much deeper between them, even if they hadn't addressed it properly just yet. 

"Are we okay for a lunch break, Logan?" The Captain scoffed, and waved a hand. 

"Would I have brought this much trouble down on myself if you weren't?" His smile was fond despite his words. "I suppose you two mischief-makers can whisk away my best cops for an hour or two." Lorna leant in to press a kiss to Logan's cheek, and then she slipped her arm through Pietro's and all but dragged him from the room. 

"Best cops, eh?" Remy muttered as he stepped past Logan. "Remy will remember you said dat, Captain." He said nothing more as he followed the Maximoff family out of the station, but as the two ladies decided on where they wanted to grab lunch, he stepped up beside Pietro. "You never told Remy dat yo' sister is _de_ Lorna Dane." 

"I told you-," 

"Dat yo' sister was called Lorna." Remy cut in. "You failed to mention de rest." Pietro felt his face flush a little – he ought to have been used to the attention Lorna generated, but he hadn't quite expected it from Remy. 

"I take it you're a fan of her articles, then?" He smiled despite himself, especially when Remy gave him a look that said 'are you kidding me?' 

"Pietro, Remy once tweeted a photo o' himself wit' Lorna in de background sat at a bar in Nawlins." In fact, he still had the photo saved on his computer at home. "Dat answer yo' question?" 

"You're adorable." If they weren't stood outside the station, he might have kissed him then. "Lorna will get a kick out of that, you know. She still can't get her head around the fame." Noticing that his sisters had made a decision, he fell into step behind them – and realised then that neither of them had seemed at all surprised at the idea of him having a _boyfriend_. 

Of course, Wanda had probably known for years – possibly for longer than even _he_ had known, since she always seemed to know him better than he knew himself. But there was a difference between suspecting, and being faced with the cold hard truth in the form of an infuriating Cajun Lieutenant. But despite the seriousness of the situation, he wasn't at all worried about his sisters getting to know Remy. In fact, he felt oddly calm about it. 

They found a table in a quiet place, sitting near the back for more privacy – something Pietro knew they had wordlessly agreed on for the sake of avoiding awkward questions from anyone who might happen to see. Wanda slid into the seat beside Pietro, leaving Remy to take to seat beside Lorna. 

"So, when did you plan on telling us about him, hm?" As usual, Lorna didn't beat around the bush, and got straight into it, delicately sipping at her latte whilst she waited for a response. 

"Well…" Pietro looked at Remy for help, but the Cajun simply grinned. Clearly he was as eager to hear Pietro's response as his sisters were. "I hadn't quite worked that one out yet." 

"We had to hear it from _Logan_ , Pietro." Lorna kicked him under the table, just hard enough for it to be felt. Pietro hissed in pain, and scowled at her across the table. "What? Did you think we wouldn't be okay with it?" 

"I wasn't quite sure how to bring up the subject." It wasn't a total lie, after all. Wanda had given him a chance to let it out into the open, but it hadn't been a conversation for a phone call. "But, now you know… let me make some proper introductions." He flashed Remy a quick smile. "Wanda, Lorna, I'd like you to meet Lieutenant Remy LeBeau, my ah…" he paused, and went with the safer word, "partner." 

"When you told me you'd fixed things with your boss…" Wanda gave him a knowing smile, and then held her hand out across the table to Remy, who took it and kissed it. 

"A pleasure to meet you, cherie." Remy grinned, before he turned his attention to the young woman sat next to him. "An' especially you, Miss Dane."

"Remy's a fan." Pietro put in quickly, earning a playful scowl from Remy.

"Yeah?" Lorna brightened instantly, laughter in her voice. "Well, if we're going to be honest, I'd actually heard of you before we got the call from Logan." When both men raised their eyebrows, she waved a hand idly. "I was down in New Orleans on a job, just for a couple of weeks, nothing too big, and I kept catching the news wherever I was. You were working a case, some guy had gone nuts and hacked up his girlfriend before going on the run, so you were getting some shit from the press about not finding him." She paused, grinned. "Nicely handled, though, even if you did look like you wanted to knock the reporter's teeth out." 

"It was temptin', not gon' lie 'bout dat." Remy laughed. "Remy remembers de case, oui. Got de guy in de end, o' course. Lil' shit was campin' out in an abandoned buildin'." 

"I remember. The news ran a wonderful video from an onlooker of you executing quite a spectacular takedown when he tried to run." Lorna flicked her hair over her shoulder, leaning back casually in her chair. "I was very impressed." 

"I did some research into you myself, as soon as I heard Pietro had a new Lieutenant." Wanda admitted. "Call it being a protective twin, but I wanted to know who my brother was working alongside. I must say, you are indeed impressive. You've a very high success rate with cases, and taken your fair share of injuries on the job." 

"Jus' doin' de duty Remy swore to." He waved it off, not wanting to get into the multiple incidents that had left him with scars. Wanting to change the subject and steer it away from the station and their job, he sent a smile across the table to Wanda. "So, Pietro told Remy dat yo' a nurse, Wanda?" 

And so the conversation turned to something lighter, and Pietro relaxed into the comfort of spending time with his sisters. They both seemed to like Remy from the start, which was a relief – although it really was difficult not to like him, if he really thought about it. He could be frustrating, of course, but beyond that he was very likeable indeed. As well as getting to know Remy, both sisters had stories to tell him, and they spent a good hour just catching up on each other's lives. When the subject turned to the Maximoff children, Remy paid closer attention. He knew Wanda had twin boys, but Pietro hadn't spoken much of them before. He was only thankful that neither of them asked if he had a family.

That was something he didn't want to bring up just yet. That was for much, much later. If at all. 

As they neared the end of the second hour, they knew it was about time to bring their break to an end. Although there was no case on right at that moment, there was still paperwork to be finished and loose ends to tie off. Remy stood, insisting on paying for lunch, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Pietro found himself facing both sisters' eyes. 

"What?" They shared a look, both grinning, and it worried him a little. 

"Hang onto this one." Lorna said, dropping her voice to a murmur even though there was no way Remy could hear them. "He's a keeper." Pietro started to smile, but something registered in his mind, and he frowned instead. 

"Wait… what do you mean by 'this one'?" He questioned, eyes narrowing. Wanda and Lorna exchanged another look, and then simultaneously rolled their eyes. 

"Please," Wanda sighed, "do you really think we believed you were taking French lessons from Jean-Peal back in high school?" Pietro felt his face flush at the mention of the boy he'd experimented with, the boy he could probably call his first boyfriend if he wanted to go that deeply into what they had together. Of course, that was how it had started – extra French lessons with the native speaker to help boost up his grades in an attempt to please his father. It just so happened that they had eventually ended up being much more physical than they had started out. 

"If you think for one second we didn't know you were partial to playing the same team, you're an idiot." Lorna added, her smile teasing but fond all the same. "Honestly? I was surprised when you married Crystal. I thought for sure you were all the way – but Wanda was convinced you didn't have much a preference for one over the other." 

"Well I'm glad to know my… _preferences_ … has been a great subject of discussion for you." Despite the slight embarrassment, it was a relief to hear that they had long ago figured him out. That meant they had known since high school – and loved him no differently. 

"You seem happy, though, and that's what we care about the most." Wanda laid a hand on his arm, and he leant into her ever so slightly. "You smile more, you know? When he talks, you look at him and you smile, like it's the most natural thing in the world. You didn't have that with Crystal, at least not towards the end." She saw the surprise on his face, and laughed. "You had no idea, did you? Why, Pietro, I do believe you're quite smitten." 

"And who can blame you?" Lorna made a show of turning to stare at Remy across the room. "He's certainly pleasing on the eyes. Totally gorgeous." She turned back, and winked at Pietro. "And I bet he's a tiger in the bedroom." 

"Lorna!" Pietro hissed, and this time it was his turn to kick _her_ under the table.

"What? A girl can wonder." She shrugged, but she sat back in her chair again, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I could listen to him talk all day, you know." At that, Pietro smiled fondly. 

"Stick around long enough, and you will." He murmured, his eyes darting to the figure of the Lieutenant. "He doesn't shut up." He felt his lips curving up into another smile, and he caught Wanda watching him. "… Shut up." 

"It's sweet." She reassured him. "And don't worry about dad, Pietro. He'll get used to it eventually. Don't let him drive a wedge between you just because it's not the future he saw for you. He'll soon see how happy you are, and he'll make an effort to get to know Remy, especially when he sees how we've accepted him – and you." 

"I hope so." He sighed now. "I really do." 

\-- 

When no case came up by five that evening, Logan sent them home. Pietro stood at his desk, deliberately taking his time in pulling on his coat, dreading going home but knowing he had to all the same. Of course, his father wouldn't be back for another few hours yet – he always worked late, rarely getting home before it was dark, especially after any kind of major case. He knew it was cowardly, but he was hoping he could hide himself away in his bedroom, perhaps even pretend to be asleep, by the time Erik finally called it a night and went home. 

"You don' have to go home, y'know." Remy stepped up beside him, trench coat hooked over one shoulder, sunglasses settled in position on his face. Pietro knew was he was saying, but he shook his head. 

"I need to. I need to face this if it's going to move forward." He fell into step with Remy as they made their way to the elevator, and he breathed out a sigh as they descended. "Sometimes I think it'd be easier if I'd moved out years ago." 

"Why didn't you?" They walked to the garage together, hesitating beside Remy's car. 

"Wanda moved in with her husband quite early, back when he was still her boyfriend, and I stayed with our father during my training and early years in the uniform. By the time I was at a place where it would be practical and affordable to move out, Lorna was off on her own and I just… I didn't want my father on his own. Plus, when I considered things, it was just easier to stay where I was. So I just… never left." And right now, he was wishing he had, so he didn't have to dread going home. "I'll get my own place eventually, but…" 

"Well, you know where to find Remy if you need to." Knowing they were in view of the cameras, he touched two fingers to Pietro's, and unlocked his car. "If not, Remy'll see you in de mornin', Detective." 

"Yeah, you will." Pietro nodded, watching him slide gracefully into the car. "And thanks, again. For… well. You know." He leant on the open door, wishing he could just lean in and kiss him goodbye. "Maybe I'll call you." 

"Phone's always on." They held each other's gaze for a long moment, and then Pietro stepped back and let Remy close the door. He fished into his pocket for his own keys, and by the time he'd opened the door to his own car, Remy was already driving away. Pietro smiled to himself as he heard the telltale sounds of Remy's driving – engine revving, tires screeching – and shook his head. 

"Damn Southern cops."


End file.
